Redemption
by monica20
Summary: Chapter 27 online. Archer and T'Pol talk finally. Archer has another nightmare. This is a summary for this chapter only.
1. Chapter 1

_DISCLAIMERS: Paramount, Star Trek and UPN own the characters._

_FEEDBACK: Greatly appreciated, either here or via email._

_SUMMARY: The story of Archer's redemption -- how he comes to terms with his actions in the Expanse and how this affects his relationship with T'Pol. It is set in the timeframe of the Season 4 episode Home, but from that point onwards diverts from canon. In this story the T/T romantic relationship of season 3 and T'Pol's trellium addiction didn't happen. If you don't like stories that don't follow canon, you probably shouldn't read this._

**Redemption**

**Chapter 1**

Night had fallen upon the city. The cloudless sky was filled with millions of stars, and a full moon lent its light to the Earth below.

For San Francisco however, natural illumination had never been enough for its residents' needs. Nightfall did not mean things ground to a halt. The streets and buildings were aglow with electric lights. Shuttlepods filled the skies, while ground transportation clogged the streets. It was rush hour and everyone was hurrying to return home to loved ones.

Loved ones: husbands, wives, children, mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers — none of which he possessed. He stared out the window, across the bay, studying the flow of the traffic on the Golden Gate.

The bridge had withheld the test of time. Built back in the 1930s, it was now over 220 years old, and as majestic as ever. It stood for something — not only excellence in engineering and design, but it was often the symbol most associated with what he regarded as his home town.

One of his earliest memories was of his father and him driving across it for the first time, a few days after moving from New York to the west coast. He must have been around five years old at the time. After paying the toll at the booth, they started their journey across. He'd studied the shape of the bridge as they drove across in detail.

"Why's it called the Golden Gate, Dad? It's red."

His father had chuckled at his son's question. "It's not named for its color." The young boy's expression conveyed puzzlement. His father clarified, " The term Golden Gate refers to the Golden Gate Strait which is the entrance to the San Francisco Bay from the Pacific Ocean."

The explanation had sufficed and the young boy had continued to gaze out the window. Within a few minutes they'd travelled across the bridge's 1.7 mile length, reaching the other side.

A few miles further and they reached Muir Woods, where the father and his son spent the afternoon, learning about the beautiful sequoia trees.

A tear welled up in the man's eye at the memory. "I miss you, Dad," he whispered into the empty conference room, knowing no one would hear him. He sighed, then blinked and felt ashamed as a lone tear travelled down his cheek. He quickly brushed it away. It wouldn't look good if the man who was now hailed a hero for saving earth was seen as being emotional or weak. He had an image to maintain.

He sighed again…that image brought the bile up from his stomach — he despised it. Only this morning as he'd attempted to enter Starfleet through the main gate he'd been hounded by reporters asking for exclusives. He'd tried to be polite and explain that he had an important meeting to get to, but the paparazzi just wouldn't take no for an answer. It had ended in a bit of a scuffle, with Starfleet security having to come to his rescue and usher him away to safety.

Then the night before, he'd been trying to have a quiet dinner alone and found himself being asked for his autograph at least two dozen times. Other requests had included taking photographs with people — all showering him with praise and admiration. One young woman had even propositioned him, telling him she was his biggest fan and wanted to show her appreciation for him saving the planet. From the smell on her breath it was obvious she was inebriated. Of course he'd refused her come on.

Now he wondered why. He'd practically been a monk for 4 years, why not break the celibate spell? He could certainly benefit from having his tensions eased. But that just wasn't his modus operandii. He wasn't a love 'em and leave 'em type of guy and he'd never take advantage of a woman in a less than sober state.

He stared out again onto the bridge and the bay. In the distance he could see a cruise ship easing out of the bay into the open ocean, probably en-route for the Hawaiian islands. On board probably a boatload of happy people — honeymooners excited at the prospect of starting their married lives together, or couples celebrating a silver or golden wedding anniversary.

He pondered what that must be like — to have that special someone in your life who compliments and completes you in every way. Someone to come home to at the end of the day and make your evening pleasant and soothing, no matter what kind of a day you'd had.

He'd never felt such utter and complete loneliness as he did at this very minute. Here he was the hero who'd saved Earth and he had nowhere to go, and no one to turn to. Jonathan Archer, Captain of the Enterprise, was completely alone.

He wished he could be back in the Expanse — numb to everything and just centered on one goal: his mission. Now that Enterprise was in spacedock receiving repairs, he'd have so much time on his hands. Too much time on his hands was not a good thing, it meant he'd have time to think. That was one thing he didn't want to do, to mull over the events of the last few months and all the heinous acts he'd committed.

_God, I hate myself._

He didn't know for how long he could continue to dodge the reporters. They were probably staking out his apartment at this very minute. But if he heard one more hero comment or how he'd saved the planet, he was sure he'd erupt and then they'd really have a headline.

Forrest had ordered him to take some time off and clear his head. But he hadn't gone anywhere. After the grilling he'd received from Soval he'd felt so keyed up and annoyed he'd paced the gardens around Starfleet for over an hour. How dare that son of a bitch accuse him of not doing everything within his power to help those on the Seleya!

If only T'Pol had been there…

She might have spoke up for him, and explained. She was loyal and she knew him. But not being an official member of Starfleet yet, and still shunned by the High Command she hadn't been invited to the de-briefing. In fact he wasn't exactly sure where she was at the moment. Before leaving Enterprise she'd mentioned something about visiting her mother on Vulcan, but he hadn't caught when she was leaving.

He guessed she was with Trip. He knew the chief engineer had scurried off to the Cayman Islands as soon as the welcome home proceedings had ended. He probably took the Enterprise's science officer with him.

Archer sighed again. He wished he could just enter the Command Center right now and immerse himself in the Xindi database so he wouldn't have to think. Thinking was dangerous. He didn't want to think about Trip and T'Pol, or his feelings.

But it seemed he was losing the battle and his mind kept regurgitating all the thoughts he'd managed to safely bury while in the Expanse.

He was plagued by his feelings: sadness, loneliness, jealousy and anger. But the predominant one that tormented him was guilt. Not guilt for what had happened on the Seleya — no Soval was way out of line on that one, he'd done all he could for the Vulcans on that ship.

His guilt encompassed stranding the Illyrian ship and stealing its warp coil, creating a clone, and torturing a prisoner. How could anyone call him a hero after these acts he'd committed? He'd noted them all in detail in his reports but no one had blinked, and just accepted that these actions had been necessary. He'd expected a least a reprimand for some of this. In fact he wanted one, it might have helped him deal with his guilt.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered with a crack in his voice as he tried to contain his volatile emotions. In a way he was glad Henry wasn't around to witness such acts.

He was roused from his thoughts when he heard footsteps down the corridor. The door to the conference room was open, but since it was unlit, he hoped it wouldn't tempt anyone to investigate if it had any occupants. It seemed someone was curious, as he saw a shadowy figure at the door.

"Captain? Is that you?"

T'Pol looked into the dark room trying to ascertain if the silhouette of a man she spied standing at the window was indeed the man she sought. She hoped it was, she'd spent the good part of two hours looking for him. She'd gone to his apartment first, and instead of finding him there had encountered news hungry reporters who were only too happy to fire a thousand questions at her. She'd managed to elude them somehow and make her way back to Starfleet HQ.

She'd heard about this afternoon's briefing and knew it had not gone well. She'd also run into Admiral Forrest and was aware that the captain had been ordered to take time off and clear his head.

"T'Pol? What are you doing here?"

"Do you mind if I turn on the lights?" she asked, after hearing his voice.

"Yes."

Hmm…that was strange. Was he afraid she might see something he wished to hide? Respecting his wishes she walked across the dark room; it wasn't a problem without the lights as Vulcans had excellent night vision. As she reached the large Oriel window she could make out his countenance. He wouldn't look at her, but continued to study the traffic outside the window. There was pain etched into his expression —she'd known him long enough to pick up on this. She hoped what she had come to say might alleviate some of this.

"You didn't answer my question." He sounded displeased at her presence.

"I came to see you."

"Why?"

"I heard about what happened with Soval."

"I'm fine."

He was anything but fine. His jaw was clenched; every muscle in his body was tightly coiled up. In his eyes she saw anger and also…she looked again to make sure she was certain. Yes…sadness, a deep all-engulfing sadness.

"I think you should go. I wish to be alone."

"I think being alone is the last thing you wish," she replied.

"How the hell would you know what I want and don't want?" His voice was rather elevated and she hoped the area was deserted, so no one would hear him.

"Captain, please…perhaps we could go somewhere more private…and talk." It was unlike him to raise his voice to her, so she gathered his mood was dire.

"Talk? I don't want to talk, T'Pol. And I sure don't need to talk. I just want to be alone."

He was being stubborn and closing her out, just like he'd done since entering the Expanse. None of her usual tactics would work. He'd built up this wall around himself that was almost impenetrable. But somewhere there had to be a chink in his armour — a weakness that she could target and then somehow get through to him.

"Jonathan…" She spoke his name softly, almost like a lover. She'd never used his first name before and hoped this might garner his attention.

He didn't flinch and continued to study the goings on happening outside the window. This wasn't the reaction she'd expected. She moved an inch closer to him, so that their bodies were almost touching and reaching down she placed her hand gently in his. She'd half expected him to pull away, but he didn't.

"Jonathan, look at me please."

He turned, their hands still entwined, and his expression was one of utter confusion.

"I care about you too much to just let you be alone and wallow in your own misery. It doesn't have to be this way." Gaining courage from the fact that he still hadn't pulled away from their joined fingers, she caressed his cheek with her hand.

He was silent, but she could feel him watching her intently. His eyes were now unreadable and she couldn't gauge any reaction from him. Deciding to take the next step, she placed a tender kiss on his lips.

Jonathan at first was startled but quickly surrendered to the feeling of her lips on his. Within moments, he was kissing her back, hungrily, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his body pressed firmly against hers.

Suddenly he stopped, pushing her away from him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, confused.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Jonathan, I thought­—"

"Are you trying to get me drummed out of Starfleet? Is that what you want?"

"No!"

"What kind of game is this to you, T'Pol? One week Tucker, the next week me? Is that it? Do you report back to your Vulcan superiors what it's like to bed a human? Do you want to compare notes?"

"If you calm down and let me explain—"

"I don't want to hear your sordid explanations. I'm tired and I'm not going to play your games."

"But…"

She didn't get to finish as he hurriedly exited the room. Her first instinct was to follow him but she acknowledged it would be of no use and she didn't wish to create a scene at Starfleet Headquarters. She pulled up a chair, sitting at the conference table and buried her face in her hands. So much for telling him how she really felt! This had gone just splendidly.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Redemption**

**Chapter 2 **

Jonathan Archer pushed the door to the 602 club open with such force you'd have needed to be blind to be oblivious to his anger. He marched in and seated himself down at the bar, ordering a double vodka from Ruby. He hoped no one was brave enough to approach him because he wasn't in the mood.

"Here you go, Captain."

He poured the alcohol down his throat all in one go, slamming the shot glass down on the bar surface. "I'll have another."

Ruby filled the order, but was concerned about him — something was very wrong.

Working at the bar over the years she's picked up a sixth sense when it came to her customers. It was almost like being a shrink, only you listened to people's problems and served them drinks.

She'd known Jonathan Archer for many years — she'd witnessed his frustration with the Vulcans during the NX-Project and she'd seen him down beers to drown the misery of failed relationships or the loss of a promotion. Other times he'd indulged in a few shots of Jack Daniels just to relax. But she'd never known him to touch vodka.

"Wanna talk about it?" she offered as she passed him the second drink.

"Nope."

She didn't want to press him further, even though it would probably help him to get whatever was bothering him off his chest. But having extensive bar experience, she knew when not to push the customer beyond their limits, and Archer had a "Keep Out" sign plastered on his forehead. She left him for a moment and went to attend to another customer who'd just entered the premises.

Jonathan took the second shot of vodka, swung it back and swallowed. It burned in his oesophagus as it travelled down, warming his stomach. He hadn't eaten anything since before the de-briefing, so was already starting to feel a bit light-headed.

A pretty young blonde waitress came over to the bar area and started to fix her customers their orders. Jonathan looked her up and down — attractive, tall, long-legged with beautiful azure eyes. Her hair was golden and long, down to her shoulders but neatly tied up. She couldn't have been more than 24 years old and the resemblance to someone from his youth was striking.

"I'll have a double-vodka on the rocks," he told her.

She looked up from what she was doing. "I'll be with you in a minute, sir."

He didn't like having to wait, but bided his time. She kept her word and within a minute was back at the bar mixing his drink. "Here you go."

"I'm Jonathan," he slightly slurred, knocking back the third glass. When he'd walked into the bar he'd had no intention of speaking with anyone, save Ruby or any other waitress to order a drink. He couldn't understand why he was talking to this girl, except for the fact that she reminded him of a time long ago when he was innocent and unscathed.

"Yes I know," she smiled. "You're Captain Archer."

"No…not tonight. I'm just Jonathan." Even in a slightly intoxicated state he still hated being seen as the captain — the one who'd saved Earth. The hero worship was too much to stomach. He just wanted to be the ordinary guy sitting in the bar having a drink.

"Okay," she smiled. "Just Jonathan."

"And you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your name, what is it?"

"Maggie."

This was uncanny — both of them having the same name. He was flooded with memories of times past — happy times filled with laughter and love. What a naïve fool he'd been! He glanced up at her. She looked just like his Maggie, or at least what his Maggie had looked like 18 years ago. He had no idea what she looked like now, after refusing his proposal she'd left San Francisco and he'd never heard from her again.

"Jonathan, are you all right?" She noted he looked a little dazed.

"What?"

"I asked if you were okay. You look as if you're in another dimension."

"Oh…it's just I knew a Maggie once. Actually Margaret, but I called her Maggie. You remind me very much of her."

The young waitress was intrigued. She didn't have any orders to fill at the moment, so thought she'd try to find out more. Besides, she was talking to the man who'd just saved her planet — and he wasn't bad looking either.

"An ex-girlfriend?"

"My first love. I'm guessing she was just about your age when I asked her to marry me." He wasn't one to normally go around divulging such personal details but then again he wasn't accustomed to drinking vodka on an empty stomach. The drink seemed to have loosened his tongue.

"Did she accept?" As far as she knew the captain was not married, the news reports would have mentioned it. Perhaps he was a widower or divorced.

"No," he whispered. His reply was barely audible. "She refused me point blank, right outside her house for the whole street to hear. Imagine that?" He was about to reach for his glass when he remembered it was empty. "I'll have another," he said pointing to his empty glass, "…and make it another double." She nodded and poured him his drink, not knowing this was his 6th shot of vodka in the space of half an hour.

"I'm sorry," she said, knowing the words sounded hollow and empty.

"I guess it was for the best. I'm lousy husband material." He downed his drink.

"Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I'm being realistic. She did the right thing. It wouldn't have been fair to her. I'd never have been home — what kind of life would that have been for either of us? And now…well now I think she'd just be ashamed and disgusted with me."

The young waitress had no idea what the captain was babbling on about — all she knew about him was from the news reports which had been playing 24/7 since Enterprise's heroic return. He'd been hailed as the conquering hero, saving the Earth from the Xindi threat. The attention of the media spotlight over the last few days may have put a strain on him, and she sympathised. As for anyone feeling ashamed for knowing him, well she was clueless.

"I'll have another."

"I think you've had enough, Jonathan." She was concerned he might not be able to walk out of the 602 if he consumed any more.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"It's my job to look out for the customers. I'd be happy to get you a coffee or perhaps some mineral water?"

"I don't need anyone looking out for me. Can I have another drink…please?" His tone had an edge of impatience to it.

"You'll be grateful in the morning that you don't have a splitting headache to deal with. I'll get you a coffee…on the house."

"What are you, my damn mother?" He'd raised his voice to her causing the other patrons to look on. "I just want a drink!" He stood up off the bar stool. Now she reminded him of T'Pol — always telling him what to do or not do!

Ruby came over to see what the commotion was about. Jonathan Archer didn't make scenes or raise his voice, at least not to her knowledge. She'd been right earlier, something was very wrong, and it was obvious someone must have served him one too many drinks. She spied Maggie in Archer's vicinity and guessed her young waitress was the culprit, though she didn't blame her entirely. Maggie probably hadn't known that Ruby had served him earlier.

"Captain, why don't you sit down and I'll get you some coffee," Ruby whispered to him, gently getting ahold of his shoulders and trying to persuade him to sit back down.

He wouldn't sit down. "I don't want any coffee, Ruby. NO COFFEE! Do you people not speak English?"

"Captain, there's no need to shout."

"Fine. Just get me another vodka." He sat down, as he noticed a number of curious eyes staring at him.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that. You've had too much already as it is. Shall I get a taxi for you then?"

"You kicking me out, Ruby?" he asked, incredulous.

"I suggest you either have some coffee and sit quietly at the bar, or make a discreet exit and go home."

"So much for loyalty to old customers," he hissed between clenched teeth. "I won't forget this, Ruby." He stood up suddenly, the legs of the stool screeching across the floor as he did so. He made his way towards the exit. Women! Huh, they all thought they could tell you how to lead your life, what to eat, what to drink…well he wouldn't be coming back here anytime soon!

He felt dizzy as he walked and his stomach felt like he'd just come off the EV simulator at Lunaport. His legs were wobbly and felt as if they were going to buckle under him any second. He heard someone mention his name and make some snide comment about the fame going to his head. He glanced in the direction of the voice, and not looking where he was going slammed right into a waitress carrying a tray of beers.

The waitress lost her balance with her tray flying into mid-air. Both her and the captain were then drenched in a frothy foam and what was left of the beer while the floor became littered in pieces of shattered glass.

Jonathan offered his hand to help the girl up.

"I'm fine," she answered with annoyance, not accepting his help. "Why don't you look where you're going?"

"Sorry."

Ruby came over to inspect the mess and glared at Jonathan. "I think you've done quite enough tonight. I don't know what your problem is, but I suggest you get out of here." She spoke in a hushed tone that only he could hear.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," he muttered.

As he left the building the difference in temperature hit him. He didn't have a jacket and the cold night air made him shiver. It didn't help that he was soaked to the skin in beer. If he walked home now he'd probably catch his death. Then he remembered he didn't have any cash on him, so getting a taxi was out of the question. The drinks at the 602 had gone on his tab. He shrugged his shoulders and began walking.

It took him longer to get home than he'd anticipated. He'd been certain he only lived a couple blocks from Ruby's and had traversed this route many times over the years. It was probably his drunken condition that was slowing him down.

He was glad to see all the reporters around his building had gone home for the night as he walked up the steps and keyed in the entrance code. He just hoped they wouldn't be camped out there first thing in the morning. He then took the elevator up to the 12th floor, and strolled along the corridor to his door.

As he approached it he saw someone sitting on the floor, next to the door. As he got closer, he saw it was T'Pol.

"Captain, what happened to you?" she asked, getting up off the floor. The smell of beer coming from his wet uniform was very strong.

"Long story. Why are you here?" he asked with a puzzled expression painted on his face.

"We ended our conversation on an unsavoury note. I thought you'd give me a chance to explain."

He swiped his electric door card through the scanner and his front door opened. "Come on in then. I'm not going to leave you standing in the hallway."

It was obvious he was intoxicated, but at least he didn't seem as angry as he had been earlier in the conference room.

After he'd left the conference room, she'd sat there for well over 15 minutes, trying to work out what to do. She'd assumed he'd have gone home, so had decided to walk to his apartment. She knew it was several miles away, so had hoped by the time she arrived his anger might have subsided a little.

However, when she'd got here over an hour ago, he didn't answer the buzzer to his door at the main entrance. She'd been about to leave, when a young Starfleet officer punched in his own code. Seeing her standing there, he'd inquired who she was looking for. When she'd mentioned Captain Archer, the ensign had informed her he'd seen him drinking over at the 602 club. He'd let her in, and she'd sat in the corridor patiently awaiting his return.

Jonathan walked in and was immediately greeted by his furry friend, who was more than happy to see him.

"Careful, Porthos," he chided the dog, whom he'd almost stepped over. His head hurt and his stomach growled.

T'Pol walked in but was unsure what to do with herself. He hadn't asked her to sit down and he hadn't offered her a beverage as he'd often done on Enterprise if she'd come to his quarters.

She watched him walk over to his drinks cabinet and pour himself a glass of some darkish brown liquid.

"I heard you went to the 602 club."

"You heard correct," he replied after finishing his drink.

"You didn't have enough to drink there?"

"Oh God, not you as well." His tone was sarcastic. "If you're gonna stand here and tell me what I should and shouldn't drink, you can just let yourself out now, T'Pol."

"I apologize." Now was not the time to argue with him about how much alcohol he'd consumed. "Perhaps you should get out of those wet clothes?" she suggested.

Hmm…she was right. He was wet, sticky and uncomfortable. He'd have a shower and change in a moment. Before that, he'd have another drink. He lamented he didn't keep vodka in the apartment. He'd have to do with the whiskey in the decanter.

He gulped down the next drink. He was beginning to feel nauseous; mixing drinks was not a good idea.

"I'm gonna take a shower then," he announced and exited the living room, shutting his bedroom door behind him.

T'Pol decided to sit herself down on his sofa even though he hadn't invited her. She began to question her own judgement. Why had she come? He was obviously in no state to be talked to at present, though she hadn't been aware of that at the time. But even earlier in the conference room, when she'd tried to tell him what had been on the tip of her tongue for many months now, he'd been dismissive of her.

When he'd kissed her back she'd finally thought she was getting through to him — actions rather than words seemed to have more of an impact on him. But then when he'd pushed her away, she'd been completely startled. Her first thought had been maybe she'd misread him, that he didn't really care for her in that way, and that her own feelings were unrequited.

Then when she'd heard his accusations of experimentation and sleeping with Trip, she'd wanted to clear up the misunderstanding immediately — but he hadn't let her. It was obvious he'd more than listened to the gossip mongers on Enterprise about her and Commander Tucker. Of course they'd have found the truth far less interesting, and so had continued to spread their vicious lies.

Apart from providing the chief engineer with neuropressure sessions to aid in his sleeping, there'd been nothing between her and the commander. Well maybe nothing wasn't exactly the truth. They'd become better acquainted with one another and developed a friendly rapport. There had even been a time when she'd believed Tucker had had a crush on her, but was glad he'd never acted on it.

No, her feelings had always been for the Captain. It had saddened her deeply to watch him bit by bit pull away from her each day in the Expanse. Her hope had been that with the mission being over and their safe return to Earth the gap between them could be bridged.

Jonathan stepped out of the bedroom wearing a black bath robe and pyjama bottoms. He looked a little pale.

"Are you feeling ill?" she inquired. She wouldn't have been in the least surprised if he did.

"I vomited. Happy now?"

He padded over to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. Realizing that he'd been pretty rude to his guest so far, he offered her one as well. She accepted.

He placed her water on the coffee table and seated himself across from her on the opposite sofa.

"You gonna spill it then, T'Pol, or do I have to wait all night?"

"I apologize if I offended you earlier in the conference room. However, I feel you misconstrued my motives."

"I did, huh?"

"I was concerned for your well-being."

"Really? How sweet."

Did he have to be so sarcastic? She acknowledged she wasn't going to get anywhere with him. Despite having emptied the contents of his stomach, his blood alcohol must still be high. In addition, his anger and frustration from the de-briefing with Soval probably only served to make his bad mood worse.

"I see I caught you at a bad time. I apologize." She got up from the sofa and walked towards the door.

"Leaving already?"

She turned around. "Captain, I think you've made it obvious this isn't a convenient time to talk." She heard him sigh heavily, then bury his face in his hands. Sighing again he got up and joined her at the door.

"Hmm…guess I really do have a lousy track record with women. They're always leaving me." His voice had changed; this was delivered in a hushed defeatist tone.

"I beg your pardon?" He wasn't making any sense. It was as if he was having a private conversation with someone else or himself that she was not privy to.

"Stay," he whispered, moving into her space. She could feel his breath on her neck.

Now she was really concerned. He was like two different people. Maybe he was ill. She touched his forehead with her hand but it didn't feel unusually hot.

He grabbed her hand and shoved her up against the wall. She was astonished at this sudden movement. "How does Trip kiss you? Does he make your blood burn, T'Pol? Does he make you breathless?"

"Jonathan—"

She couldn't finish what she was about to say as his lips were upon hers, hungry and demanding. His body crushed her against the wall. She wasn't frightened. She was much stronger than him, and if there was any thought of danger she could have easily pushed him away.

She wasn't thinking…her thought processes had come to a complete halt. Instead, all she could do was surrender to the feelings he evoked in her — strange, wondrous new feelings. Desires she'd never imagined.

As he broke for air, he whispered her name and something she couldn't quite make out. It sounded very much like "I love you" but she couldn't be sure, she felt dizzy from his kisses.

He kissed her again, this time more slowly, with care and tenderness. Then he moved over to her ear, taking the pointed tip in his mouth and gently nibbling on it. Pleased with his work so far, he travelled down her neck lavishing it with attention.

He then locked eyes with her, and she had the distinct impression it was if he was asking for her unspoken permission. She caressed his face, hoping that would be a sufficient answer. His eyelids had closed at her touch and she heard him sigh with pleasure at her touch.

The next moment she found herself hoisted into the air, and carried in his arms to his bedroom. Placing her on the bed, he slipped out of his bathrobe and returned to her side.

Her eyes roved over his muscular body — she'd always found his physique pleasurable. He had beautifully broad shoulders, shapely arms, a muscular chest, and a taut abdomen.

He leaned over her, starting to kiss her again. She decided she wanted to take control for a moment and with her strength was able to roll him beneath her. At first he seemed a little taken aback, but soon succumbed to the pleasure of her touch.

She experimented with kissing, learning the technique and what pleased him the most. Moving down his throat, she lightly nipped at his Adam's Apple. She then proceeded to leave featherlite kisses down his chest and stomach.

"T'Pol," he whispered hoarsely.

"I'm here," she answered, brushing his lips once more with hers. Gazing into his eyes she noticed something in them that hadn't been present earlier tonight. He looked so lost and vulnerable.

Suddenly she came to her senses and a notion of reality.

"What's wrong?" he asked, not sure why she'd stopped her ministrations.

She couldn't do this. It wasn't right — Jonathan was not of sound mind. She'd almost let this go too far, just because she'd become so entangled in his emotions and touch.

He'd consumed a fair amount of alcohol this evening, and that probably had a lot to do with why he'd kissed her as she'd attempted to leave. His first move had been almost aggressive and probably had been fuelled by his jealousy of her supposed affair with Trip.

If she'd allowed them to continue, who knows how he might have reacted in the light of day? If his reaction in the conference room was anything to go by, he'd probably have accused her of sexual harassment or taking advantage of him.

"I think you should get some sleep," she suggested, stroking his cheek. "We can talk in the morning."

"T'Pol, I don't understand."

"It's late, you've had a lot to drink. Things will be a lot clearer tomorrow."

She got up off the bed, but couldn't leave as he grabbed her hand.

"Don't go," he pleaded.

She decided she'd stay the night, but definitely not in the same bedroom. She was concerned for him, and didn't think it would be right to just leave him on his own in this state.

"I'm not. I'll be right next door."

"I don't understand," he repeated.

"You will…tomorrow. And you'll probably thank me." She encouraged him to get under the covers and get some sleep. He didn't protest much and she assumed the effects of the alcohol were obviously making him sleepy. For that she was at least grateful.

She walked into the living room, and checked a few cupboards to see if she could find a spare pillow and blanket to put on the bed that the sofa folded out into. She quickly found what she needed. Just before retiring, she checked on the captain.

She found him to be sound sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Redemption**

**Chapter 3**

After waking up with the mother of all hangovers, Jonathan promised himself he'd never touch vodka again. For that matter, he vowed not to mix drinks ever again either; vodka and whiskey were a bad recipe for his head and stomach.

Hauling himself out of bed, he went to the mirror and studied his reflection. His hair was askew, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, he had dark circles under his eyes, and he generally looked like hell.

"Rough night I guess," he muttered to himself, trying to rack his brain for some semblance of memory from last night — most of it was a blur. He had a vague recollection of kissing T'Pol but dismissed that as another one of the many dreams he'd had about his first officer.

No, he thought, the kiss in the conference center hadn't been a dream…that was real. And he'd been mad at her — that he remembered. This other image he had was of them both in this apartment.

He shrugged it off, definitely a dream.

Slipping on his bathrobe, he opened the door to the living room and walked in the direction of the kitchen to get some orange juice. He stopped short as he found T'Pol in his kitchen, making breakfast.

"Good morning, Captain."

"Oh my God, it wasn't a dream was it?"

What had he done? The memory became clearer and he saw himself shoving T'Pol against the wall with force and kissing her. Then he'd carried her into his bedroom. The rest was hazy. Had he…? Had they…?

"How much do you remember?" she asked.

"Umm…I'm not sure," he sheepishly replied. "Did I hurt you in any way?" he asked. He had to make sure.

"No, Jonathan."

Hmm…she was calling him by his first name — did that mean they'd been intimate?

He didn't know what to think. He tried to piece the puzzle together in his head. He remembered her coming to see him in the conference room then he'd hastily departed in a flurry of anger. Then he'd gone to the 602 and got himself very drunk, after which he'd returned here and found her waiting for him. She'd tried to talk to him, but he'd been intent on getting himself drunker still.

After the first glass of whiskey his memory was less clear. It went totally blank after carrying her into the bedroom. If something had happened between them…God he hoped she would say that he'd passed out or something before anything serious had transpired. He felt awkward and uncomfortable.

"I just wanted to get some juice," he said as he opened the fridge door and took out the right carton. Taking a glass from one of the cupboards he poured the juice into it.

"Breakfast will be ready in a minute," she informed him.

Why was she here cooking breakfast? Did she feel obliged? He wanted to know the truth, but part of him was terrified.

He glanced at the stove and noted she was making scrambled eggs.

"T'Pol, the smell must be intolerable for you. Let me finish."

"It is of no consequence. I took my nasal inhibitor this morning."

"Oh…right."

"Why don't you sit down?" she suggested.

He pulled up one of the high kitchen stools and sat down. "Since when do you know how to prepare eggs?" He decided he wasn't ready for any serious conversation with his pounding head, so tried to keep their dialogue casual.

"It's nothing fancy like Eggs Benedict. It's only scrambled eggs. I found this book lying on the counter entitled "Simple Meals for the Bachelor" and it explains in detail how to make even the simplest of dishes."

"I see." He thought he'd thrown that book away years ago. It had been a gift from Rebecca.

Once the eggs were ready she served them on a plate along with some toast.

"Thanks. But what are you gonna eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You mean there's nothing around that you find edible?"

"I made myself some mint tea when I got up. I'm fine."

He felt bad that he had nothing to offer her, but he hadn't expected guests. "Why don't you at least have a piece of toast?"

She could tell he was anxious for her well-being so acquiesced even though she had no appetite this morning.

She sat down with him, nibbling on her dried toast — she didn't want any butter or jam on it.

"These are really good, T'Pol," he said, referring to the eggs. For a first timer she wasn't a bad cook.

"I'm pleased. How is your stomach?"

"My stomach? Oh yeah, I was feeling nauseous last night. It's better." He paused, and then decided to get it over and done with. He had to know what happened. "Listen, about last night…"

"Yes?"

"Well I was very drunk—"

"I observed that."

"T'Pol, I want to apologize for my behaviour."

"There's nothing to apologize for."

"There isn't?" He was confused.

"Well I know my memory is pretty foggy, but I do remember being rather…umm…forceful with you when you tried to leave."

"Oh that…do not concern yourself."

"My behaviour didn't bother you?" he asked, surprised.

"If anything bothered me…it was your behaviour in the conference room yesterday. In addition I'm concerned with your need to get drunk to deal with whatever was bothering you in the conference room to begin with."

"Look I'm sorry. I know I acted like an ass yesterday. I was very rude to you. But before we go into that…maybe you could do me a favour."

"Yes?"

"Could you put me out of my misery and tell me what happened last night?"

She raised an eyebrow in response wondering how much he really did remember. She hoped nothing more than the kiss in his living room. She did not want to admit to what had gone on in the bedroom before she'd finally stopped herself.

"If you are worried that we had sexual relations, we didn't," she announced in a deadpan voice.

"Oh…right…umm…good."

He gulped down his juice, averting her eyes. Since coming face to face with her in his kitchen making his breakfast, he'd feared hearing that he'd been drunk and slept with his first officer with no recollection of said event. That wasn't the way he'd ever wanted it to be. He didn't have one night stands — he wasn't that kind of guy. And while he'd had plenty of fantasies that involved making love to T'Pol, in his imagination they'd always been sober and acting mutually on their feelings.

So this was good news…he was relieved, but still a tad confused. "Okay, so what exactly did happen?"

"We kissed in the living room, but once we got to the bedroom, the drink took over and you fell asleep." It was a white lie and she wasn't happy about explaining it this way, but she felt ashamed at her own actions. She'd almost taken advantage of him when he hadn't had full use of his faculties.

"I fell asleep? Hmm…guess it was for the best then."

"Yes."

While part of him was extremely relieved to hear T'Pol's retelling of the previous evening's events, it was hard to believe that he'd just fallen asleep like that when he'd had the most beautiful woman in the universe in this arms. Hmm…guess I can't hold my liquor anymore, he thought.

He finished up his eggs and poured himself another glass of juice. "T'Pol, what if I hadn't been drunk?" he asked, as a random thought popped into his head.

"What do you mean?"

Hmm…this was an embarrassing question, maybe he shouldn't ask. But he was confused and sought clarity. Yesterday she'd kissed him in the conference room, then when he'd kissed her last night in his apartment she'd seemed receptive.

"I mean what would have happened…last night…between us…you know if I'd been sober?"

"Oh." She looked down, staring at the crumbs on her plate. Suddenly they'd become rather interesting. She couldn't face him right now. Her cheeks felt warm and she knew she was blushing.

Unsure how to answer that question, or more to the point, not wanting to answer the question she got up to make herself another hot tea. Her courage seemed to have forsaken her. Yesterday she'd wanted nothing more than to divulge her feelings to him, this morning it seemed an impossible task.

"I'm making some mint tea, would you like some?" she asked, as she poured water into the electric kettle.

Jonathan got up from the table, and walked over to her, taking the kettle out of her hands.

"Forget the tea for the moment, I'd like an answer."

"I don't know what to say," she answered, her eyes focused on the kettle.

"How about the truth?" he asked in a gentle tone.

There was no response. "T'Pol," he lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes to try and ascertain what was going on. "I'm puzzled by what's gone on between us in the last 24 hours. You wanted to talk to me about it in the conference room before I walked off."

"You did not wish to listen."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I acted badly. I was completely thrown by your actions. They were so unlike you. Would you be willing to talk to me about this now?"

"Will you listen without getting angry and accusing me of things I haven't done?"

Accusing her of things she hadn't done? Ah yes. His reaction to her kiss had been yelling at her about Trip and suggesting she was using him and the commander as some kind of experiment. He'd flipped out because he'd been so mad with Soval and how the debriefing had gone. Instead of just accepting T'Pol's affections, he'd had a knee jerk reaction — allowing old prejudices to surface: Vulcans couldn't be trusted and they were deceitful.

He hadn't even considered the possibility that T'Pol might genuinely care for him. He'd been force fed the rumours about her and Trip for months to the point that he'd begun to believe they were the gospel truth. It had made no sense for her to have feelings for him, as he'd been convinced she was in a relationship with Trip.

"Yes, I'll listen," he promised.

"May I make some tea first?"

He nodded and told her he'd like a cup. While the kettle boiled, he removed their dirty dishes from the counter top, and put them in the dishwasher. T'Pol poured the boiling water into two mugs and carried them out to the living room coffee table.

She sat across from him. "I'd wait for it to cool a bit," she suggested as she saw him reach for his mug.

"Yeah, good idea."

"I came looking for you yesterday because I wanted to speak to you in private on a personal matter. It seemed like the first opportunity where we could actually talk alone since the end of the mission. I knew how busy you'd been and with your new found fame you'd become everyone's favourite person. I'd hoped to meet with you after the debriefing but by the time I arrived, only Soval was left. I asked him where you were and he said you'd gone with Forrest to his office."

"Right."

"The Ambassador then told me a little of what had happened during the debriefing. He couldn't understand why I chose to serve under such a hot-headed, irresponsible man. I didn't want to have a lengthy discussion with him at the time, so basically I told him I didn't regret my decision to enter the Expanse with you or the rest of the crew. I also informed him that with your help, I'd be joining Starfleet. He didn't seem very pleased at that information and commented about how I'd once been such a promising member of his own team when I'd been stationed on Earth at the Vulcan compound."

She took a breath and reached for her mint tea. It was still steaming, so she blew on it a little.

"I left Soval and went to Admiral Forrest's office, hoping to find you there. I knocked and the admiral bid me enter. Apparently I'd just missed you by about two minutes. I asked him if he knew where you were, and he said no, only that you'd left in a rage and he'd ordered you to take some time off. My next stop was your apartment, but you weren't home. It was dusk by this time."

"I stayed at Starfleet," Jonathan told her.

"Well that finally dawned on me. So I travelled back to Starfleet HQ, asking a few ensigns on entering if they'd seen you. One said they'd spotted you about an hour ago on the third floor heading towards the conference room. I decided to check it out and that's where I found you."

T'Pol was giving him a lot of facts, but still no actual reason as to why she'd wanted to see him yesterday. He wished she'd get to the point.

"So what's this personal matter you had to see me about?"

Something about his tone made her feel uneasy. Was he getting impatient? When he'd got up from the table and stopped her making the tea, asking her to explain what was going on, she'd hoped he'd be patient and just listen to her explanation. Now she felt uncertain if she should speak her heart.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I'm waiting for an answer. I've asked you two questions, neither one of which you've answered. What's the problem?"

"You said you wouldn't get angry."

"I'm not angry, T'Pol."

"Your tone of voice is irritable."

He rolled his eyes at that comment. He just wanted her to get to the point. His hangover probably wasn't helping matters. Maybe a shower would help.

"I think I better get showered and dressed. I'll be back in about ten minutes. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes."

As she waited T'Pol attempted to rehearse in her head what she'd planned on telling him, but it wasn't easy. His constantly changing moods made it difficult to predict what his reaction might be, and she had no real idea as to his own feelings. One moment he seemed reasonable and the next irritable and short with her. She didn't want a repeat of what happened in the conference room yesterday.

She'd tried to tell him something the day he'd appeared on the Bridge after transporting from Earth with Alicia Travers. She'd been lost for words at the sight of him, happiness breaking over her like a wave at the evidence before her: he was alive and well.

She'd almost felt what could have been described as a pang of jealousy as she'd seen Ensign Sato hug him and the captain heartily return the gesture. But then Hoshi could get away with such things, the captain had always treated her like a younger sister and everyone amongst the crew knew he had a soft spot for her.

They'd had a brief conversation in the corridor, she'd updated him on what he'd missed and shown him to Sickbay where a dying Daniels awaited. There'd been no other opportunity that day to be alone with him.

So finding him alone in the conference room yesterday evening had really been the first chance for her to speak to him. Added to that, after hearing from both Soval and Forrest about how infuriated he was after the debriefing, she'd wanted to comfort him.

Now she didn't know what he wanted. In his drunken state last night he'd asked her not to leave, but who'd really been speaking — him or the alcohol? She felt uncertain. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed prudent to leave things as they were and not change the status quo between them.

She heard the shower still running and decided to leave before he came back. Unlocking the door and gently shutting it behind her, she made her way along the corridor to the elevator and back to her hotel where she'd been assigned accommodation while Enterprise was being repaired.

Jonathan slipped on a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans and returned to the living room.

"T'Pol?"

The room was empty except for Porthos who was asleep in his basket. Maybe she'd gone to the guest bathroom. He knocked on it and then tried the knob. The bathroom was empty. He called her name again but knew it was fruitless. The apartment wasn't that large; there wasn't anywhere for her to hide.

He checked his front door and noticed it was slightly ajar. Opening it he stared down the corridor to see if there was any sign of her: nothing. So she'd left, chickened out. Whatever she'd wanted to say, she wasn't gonna say it after all.

Hell, he might as well get used to it. Or wasn't he used to it already? Women — all women ended up leaving him for one reason or another. It was just something he anticipated. Maybe he'd been too impatient and not understanding enough. She'd obviously wanted to tell him something.

He shut his door returning to his apartment and sighed. Leaning against the door he rubbed his aching temples.

Porthos' head perked up at the sound of the door closing. "Wanna go for a walk?" Jonathan offered. Perhaps some fresh air would alleviate his headache. The pup barked wildly with enthusiasm. Jonathan knew that meant yes.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Redemption**

**Chapter 4 **

Golden Gate Park was a great place to take your dog for a walk. It was a popular haunt of many a San Franciscan. Jonathan and Porthos strolled along to their favourite area — The Strybing Arboretum, a 55 acre area of the park with many different plant species growing. It was a warm day so they took the Redwood trail that was nice and shady because of the tall redwood trees.

Porthos seemed very eager today, practically straining at his leash. Jonathan wished he had his pet's boundless energy. He felt tired and groggy; he was still suffering from his hangover. It was a bright, fresh morning so he still hoped getting some outdoor activity might help his headache.

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about T'Pol since leaving the apartment. He still didn't know why she hadn't gone to Vulcan. And where was she staying? He doubted she was welcome at the Vulcan compound after resigning her commission.

He wished she hadn't just disappeared on him like that, but he blamed himself. If he'd been a better host — kinder and less snappish, maybe she'd had stayed. He was still utterly confused by all that had gone on between them.

He wasn't proud of his own recent behaviour starting with his outburst in the conference room, getting drunk at the 602 and forcing himself on her in such a manner. Though from what she'd said he hadn't hurt her. Despite that, it didn't sit right with him.

But what did these days? What recent action of his didn't plague his conscience? If only there was a way in which he could redeem himself — make it up to someone. He'd even considered asking Forrest if he could temporarily captain Columbia and take her back into the Expanse to find the Illyrian ship and return their warp coil. A day didn't go by when he didn't think of the Illyrians and the crime he'd committed. It wasn't something he was going to forget…ever.

It weighed heavily on him. Maybe that's why he'd practically blown up at Soval yesterday, because the Ambassador had suggested he might not have done all within his power to save the sick Vulcans on the Seleya.

He didn't feel any guilt when it came to the Seleya — oh he felt bad that the Vulcans couldn't be saved, but he'd based his decision to destroy the ship on Phlox's medical findings. He wasn't a miracle worker, and there was nothing he or anyone else could have done for the Vulcans.

The case with the Illyrians was completely different. He'd purposely crippled and abandoned them to serve his own purposes. He couldn't just pick up from where he'd left off before the Expanse and the Xindi. He was changed…forever. The happy-go-lucky explorer didn't exist anymore. And if he was going to live with himself, he had to make some kind of amends when it came to the Illyrians.

But Forrest wasn't exactly on speaking terms with him. He'd told him to take some time off and clear his head. _Clear my head?_ How exactly was that done? Where did he go for absolution?

Porthos tugged at his leash, anxious to get around the next corner and irritated at the unusual slowness of his master. Suddenly the leash Jonathan held in his fingers went limp — Porthos was free and had run off, the leash having snapped.

"Damn!" he muttered under his breath and forced himself to go run after his dog. As he turned the corner he inadvertently bumped into a young couple engaged in kissing.

"Sorry," he muttered.

They looked rather embarrassed; having thought this was a private secluded area of the park.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Jonathan continued," but have you seen a beagle running past in this direction?"

"I'm afraid we wouldn't have noticed," confessed the young man.

"Of course. Again I apologize."

Jonathan left the young couple and continued walking. Where the hell was Porthos? He called to him several times but couldn't see any sign of him along this path. Of course he'd been cooped up on Enterprise for so long, it didn't surprise him that his dog had so much stored up energy.

He strolled along the pathway, knowing that it lead to a clearing and a lake. As he got closer he could hear splashing. Shielding the sun from his eyes with his hand, he could see Porthos swimming around in the lake with a stick in his mouth.

He called to him but the canine seemed to be having too much fun to heed the order. Jonathan acknowledged that he'd have to wait until the pup wore himself out. He sat down on the grass at the water's edge and looked on as his beagle doggy paddled around the lake merrily.

Porthos' life seemed so simple and uncomplicated: eat, sleep and exercise — nothing more and nothing less. No complicated decisions to make, no life and death situations to deal with, and a master who took care of your every wish, including feeding you cheese every now and then against your physician's advice.

Jonathan almost wished he could swap with his dog right now. He was tired of life. The responsibilities, the decisions and the consequences he had to deal with weighed heavily on him.

He remembered the young couple he'd bumped into. They reminded him of Maggie and himself. They'd spent many a Saturday afternoon at Golden Gate Park. She'd loved it here — they'd walked and talked for hours, his arm around her waist, her head leaning on his shoulder. Life had been good then.

But he'd been a raw, innocent, inexperienced cadet at the time. He'd fallen madly in love and had been practically inseparable from her in his off-hours. He'd been one hundred percent sure that she'd felt the same; that's why he'd been certain of an affirmative answer when he'd proposed.

Memories of Maggie made him feel terribly lonely again — just like he'd felt yesterday in the conference center before T'Pol had turned up. Why had she kissed him? He thought he knew her well, it wasn't like her to toy with another person's feelings or experiment.

_I care about you too much to just let you be alone and wallow in your own misery. It doesn't have to be this way._

He recalled her words. Well just which way could it be? She'd been right about one thing; he was miserable and he was drowning in it.

For the few seconds she'd been in his arms, her mouth on his — the misery had vanished and been replaced by a wonderful warmth, a sense of being wanted and cared for. But he hadn't allowed the feeling to germinate, and killed it before it took root. He couldn't afford to believe that T'Pol had feelings for him. He wouldn't allow himself to be that vulnerable…to allow himself further pain.

Relationships for him had always ended in some kind of pain. It had taken months to get over Maggie, but thinking back over it, he'd never really got over her rejection and it had seemed to cast a shadow over all his other relationships. It was as if he'd entered them knowing that at some point the girl would leave him or break it off.

When he'd discovered that he was in love with T'Pol, he'd decided he'd never tell her. No point testing fate. He was of the opinion that she'd never return his feelings, even before they'd entered the Expanse. She was a Vulcan after all.

Yet last night she'd told him she cared too much to let him be alone. What did that mean? And what had she tried to tell him this morning? And what if he hadn't been drunk last night?

No, he wasn't going to torture himself with these questions. It was much safer to just assume she cared as a friend and nothing more. That way he wasn't opening himself up to further hurt.

A very wet Porthos jumped into his lap, dropping the stick on the ground beside his master, and drenching him as he shook off the excess water on his coat.

"Oh thanks, boy."

Jonathan stood up to survey the damage. His sweatshirt was damp as were his jeans. As soon as the clothes dried he'd smell of algae and pond water. Ugh.

"Had a good swim then?"

Porthos barked and wagged his tail with happiness. Jonathan squatted down to survey the damage to Porthos' leash — the collar was still intact with half the leash attached.

"I hope you've worn yourself out cause now I'm keeping you on a short leash and we are going home."

Porthos merrily accompanied his master home, having spent most of his energy on his walk and then his swim.

Jonathan hauled Porthos into the bathtub when they got home, to wash the lake smell off the dog. He rubbed him down with a towel, fed him and let him loose in the apartment.

He then attended to himself and changed into some clean clothes.

Lunchtime rolled around and he felt peckish. Opening the fridge door and surveying the contents he noted that he really needed to go to the store and get some groceries. He didn't have the motivation to go at the moment, it would probably entail bumping into people, being recognized and he wasn't in the mood for all that hoopla.

Instead, he ordered a pizza that arrived twenty minutes later. He took some painkillers with his meal. Despite being out in the fresh air, his head was still troubling him.

After lunch he wasn't sure what to do being unaccustomed to having so much spare time on his hands. Around this time of day he was usually in his Ready Room reading the duty roster or crew reports.

It was gonna take at least two months for Enterprise's repairs to be complete — what was he supposed to do in the meantime? And how long was he off duty for? Forrest had been angry with him yesterday and hadn't specified how much time he should take off to "clear his head".

He could go on vacation: perhaps Oahu for a touch of body surfing or maybe to Tibet to revisit some temples. Australia wasn't a bad idea either — a spot of snorkelling off the Great Barrier Reef might be just the ticket.

He sighed; he didn't feel like doing any of those things. Was he suffering from depression? Maybe.

His comm beeped and he answered. It was Phlox inviting him to have dinner. He'd wanted to check up on him and didn't know if the captain was out of town or not. He invited him to Madame Chang's for 8pm. Jonathan knew the doctor wouldn't take no for an answer so reluctantly agreed.

Over the next hour he attempted to read a current best seller but couldn't concentrate and kept reading the same sentences over and over. Tired of that, he turned on his widescreen plasma TV to see if there was anything that piqued his interest.

To his dismay after flicking through a few channels he came across a news report about himself and Enterprise. Again he was hailed as the conquering hero who'd single handily saved the planet.

"Yeah, but at what cost! Does anyone ever mention that?" he shouted at the screen. He turned it off and threw the remote at it in frustration.

Feeling sick of everything for the time being he sauntered over to his bedroom, closed the door, pulled the curtains across the window and climbed into bed. He just wanted to shut the world out.

* * *

Doctor Phlox was concerned about his commanding officer. He'd received a call from Admiral Forrest late last night. The call had been brief and to the point. He'd told the doctor a little about the captain's behaviour and asked if Phlox would be willing to meet with him the next morning. 

The doctor had acquiesced and turned up at Starfleet HQ at 1000 hours. Forrest had explained that he was concerned about Archer — the captain didn't seem himself and wondered if the doctor could shed some light on the matter.

Phlox explained that Captain Archer had been under a great deal of stress in the Expanse, and had been forced into making decisions that obviously didn't sit well with his conscience. Phlox hypothesized that the captain might be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

"I told him he was off-duty and that he needed to clear his head. Think that'll do any good?"

"Admiral, I'm not sure. I'd need to assess him. It might be a simple case of lack of sleep and too much stress."

"I'd hoped he might take some time off, perhaps go on vacation or something, but I checked with the doorman to his apartment building earlier, and he informed me that Archer had spent the night there."

"He could be planning to go somewhere today?"

"Hmm…perhaps," Maxwell mused. "Doctor, I know you're officially off-duty yourself, but could I ask a favour?"

"I'd only be too happy to oblige." Phlox gave Forrest his trademark Cheshire cat grin.

"Could you keep an eye on Jonathan? Maybe even counsel him off the record or suggest he talk to someone."

Phlox had told him he would. After all he was rather fond of the captain.

It was 7pm and the doctor thought it a good idea to remind the captain of their dinner appointment. He'd seemed a little out of sorts when he'd called earlier to invite him and Phlox was certain the captain had only agreed to meet him out of politeness.

He tried the line to the captain's apartment but there was no reply. It could be that Archer had left earlier and would just meet him at the restaurant. Not wanting to give up so easily, he tried for a second time.

This time he got a response. A sleepy Jonathan Archer answered his comm.

"Yes?"

"Ah, Captain. Just wanted to remind you of our dinner date tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes I called you earlier…don't you recall?"

"Oh yeah…that's right. I'll be there…9pm."

"Captain, I made reservations for 8pm."

"You did?"

Phlox could tell from the captain's appearance on the viewscreen that all was not well. He looked tired and as if he'd just got out of bed. Yet it was 7 o'clock in the evening. Why would the captain have been sleeping?

"Would you like me to change them?" Phlox inquired.

"No…it's okay. I'll be there. 8pm at Madame Chang's."

"Good, I look forward to it. Phlox out."

* * *

Jonathan stifled a yawn and opened his wardrobe to pick out an outfit for this dinner. He didn't really want to go, but now that Phlox had reminded him and woken him up, he guessed he should make an appearance. 

He must have fallen asleep for several hours so assumed he'd been genuinely tired. Or it could be his body's way of making up for his lack of sleep in the Expanse. He'd spent many sleepless nights sitting in the Command Center with only a cup of coffee for company.

Madame Chang's had a smart casual dress code so a pair of blank pants and a smart shirt would do fine.

He entered the restaurant on time and found Phlox already seated, munching on a starter.

"Captain, so glad you could make it."

Jonathan pulled out a chair and joined him at the table.

At the sound of the term captain a few heads had turned to see who this captain was. Within a minute two young girls approached Jonathan and asked if they could have a picture taken with him.

They couldn't have been more than 12 or 13 years old with long black hair tied back in a pigtail. They looked alike so he guessed they were sisters. Both of them were bubbling over with excitement at meeting the famous captain. He obliged their request and tried to put on a smile, which immediately vanished the moment they left his table.

"You couldn't pick a more conspicuous table, could you, Doc?" he asked Phlox.

"The fame bothers you, doesn't it?"

Jonathan didn't reply but Phlox could tell from his expression that he wasn't comfortable with being the planet's hero.

The waitress came over and handed him a menu. He noticed she didn't give one to Phlox. "You ordered already?"

"Oh I don't need a menu, Hoshi already instructed me on what to order."

"Oh right."

He perused the menu and told the server he'd have the lemon chicken with egg fried rice.

"So why did you want to see me tonight, Phlox?"

"Do I need a reason to invite my captain to dinner?"

"No. I guess I'm feeling a tad suspicious. Admiral Forrest didn't contact you by any chance did he?"

Phlox couldn't lie and confirmed that he had.

"Figures," Jonathan muttered under his breath.

"I believed him to be a family friend as well as your commanding officer, Captain. Why do you resent his concern?"

"Are we going to have dinner, Phlox, or a therapy session?" Archer asked with irritation.

"Dinner, of course. But if there's anything you need to get off your chest, well you know I do have a degree in psychiatry."

Jonathan didn't want to dignify that with a verbal response; he merely rolled his eyes.

Phlox understood that the direct approach wasn't working so changed the subject for the time being. "Besides I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather enjoy a delicious Chinese meal with."

"Not Hoshi?"

"Hoshi went to Japan to spend some time with her family and took Ensign Mayweather with her."

"Good for her." Jonathan thought how nice it would be to have some family to visit. Someday he should look up those distant cousins in upstate New York.

"Good evening Captain, Doctor." Jonathan was surprised to hear Trip Tucker's voice but when he looked up from the table he was less than surprised to see T'Pol accompanying his chief engineer.

"I thought you were in the Cayman Islands," he stated.

"Would you believe it, Cap'n? I arrived and discovered I'd left my luggage here. So I took a shuttlepod back here this morning and I'm returning in the morning. Trying to convince T'Pol to go with me. She's not going back to Vulcan for another two weeks, I think she might enjoy a bit of R&R on a tropical beach. What do you think?"

Jonathan shot T'Pol a glance. He hoped she was feeling as uncomfortable as she looked. So much for accusing her of things she hadn't done. Her and Trip looked just peachy together!

"I think T'Pol should do what she wants." Jonathan returned in a monotone voice.

"Well we better get to our table. Nice seeing you Cap'n, Doctor."

"Enjoy your meal," Phlox replied.

Trip and T'Pol walked off together in the direction of their table, when Trip suddenly returned. "Listen, I was just thinkin', after dinner why don't we all go for a drink?"

After last night's experience that was the last thing Jonathan wanted to do, and he sure wasn't gonna sit around and make small talk with Trip and T'Pol. "I'll bow out if you don't mind, but I'm sure the doctor would like to join you."

"I would as a matter of fact."

"Great Doc! We'll miss you, Cap'n. You sure you can't make it, sir?"

Jonathan nodded.

"Okay, better be off. Enjoy your meal!"

The service was very fast and within a few minutes of Trip and T'Pol leaving, their meals were served. Both of them tucked in and didn't converse for several minutes. Jonathan noted that he was actually hungry and the lemon chicken was delicious.

"Any reason you didn't want to come out with us later?" Phlox enquired.

"Not feeling very sociable and I'm tired."

"Captain, have you considered that your experiences in the Expanse may have had a greater effect on you than you realize?"

"I thought you said this was gonna be a friendly dinner, not a psycho-analysis?"

"As your friend and physician, I feel it's my duty to ask you this."

Phlox acknowledged his captain didn't want to hear this, but he felt he'd be lax in his duty as a physician if he didn't address this topic at least once tonight. His first attempt had fallen on deaf ears, and he'd hoped that Archer might be more receptive on a fuller stomach.

"Doc, I really don't want to talk about it."

"Then would you be willing to talk to someone else about it, maybe a professional?"

Jonathan put his fork and knife down, sighing. "Ah, now we get to it. That's what all this is about. You tricked me into having dinner with you just so that you could talk me into seeing some shrink."

"I'm concerned for your well-being."

"Seems everyone is these days," Jonathan answered sarcastically. "You, Forrest, and T'Pol — God, I just wish you'd all leave me alone."

Phlox remained silent, mulling over the captain's words. He'd mentioned T'Pol. Had she gone to see him? Was that the reason he didn't want to have a drink with her and Trip later tonight?

"I'm curious Captain, do you have your own remedy?"

"Remedy for what?"

"For how you are feeling. Admiral Forrest told me what happened in the debriefing."

"Seems like he's telling everyone these days. Why doesn't he just publish it in the local newspaper! Starfleet captain loses his temper at debriefing — I'm sure that'd make a dandy headline. So much for Starfleet debriefings being classified."

"He didn't go into specifics, he just told me you were upset."

"And do you know why?" Feeling defensive Jonathan raised his voice.

"No, like I said he didn't go into specifics." Phlox could tell he'd touched a raw nerve and suggested they order dessert to try to calm the situation.

"I don't want any dessert."

"Oh come on Captain, let me order you something…I'll ask the waitress for the dessert menu."

"No…I'm not in the mood. I'm sorry Phlox, I'm lousy company."

"Nonsense, Captain. If I thought that I wouldn't have invited you."

"Well it looks as if you invited me to fulfil some kind of medical obligation."

Jonathan sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He took a sip of water. He needed a drink now — something to calm his unsteady nerves. He never used to fly off the handle like this, he could hardly believe he's raised his voice to Phlox like that.

"Captain—"

"No, Phlox, listen. I'm sorry. I know you and Forrest both mean well and have my best interests at heart…I just think I need some time alone and I'll be okay."

Phlox nodded and decided not to pursue the subject any further…at least for the time being. But he knew the captain was lying. Getting him to talk about his feelings was like pulling teeth. He recalled the time he'd questioned him about the last time he'd been intimate with a woman. Archer had vehemently stated that Porthos was the only patient in Sickbay that night.

"As you wish, Captain."

The rest of the meal was spent engaging in casual chit chat. Phlox shared the few ideas he had for spending his free time before Enterprise was back in service. Jonathan nodded and added a comment here and there when required. After dinner, he had two shots of whiskey that seemed to mellow him out a little.

Jonathan didn't feel it would be right to just leave Phlox on his own, so hung around until Trip and T'Pol had finished their meal and joined him.

* * *

"You've been quiet all evening, T'Pol. I thought you'd enjoy it here. What's up?" Trip enquired. 

"I'm fine," she lied. She seemed to be getting into a habit of that and didn't like it. She'd been completely taken aback at the sight of Jonathan and the doctor in the restaurant.

After leaving Jonathan's apartment this morning she'd gone for a walk in an attempt to sort things out in her head. She'd felt ashamed for just having left the captain like that, without any explanations. When she returned to her hotel she'd made up her mind to contact him inviting him to dinner, maybe to his favourite restaurant or something. She'd come clean at dinner and explain to him how she felt, and also apologize for just disappearing like that this morning.

If he didn't feel the same way, then that would be that. But at least she would have explained her behaviour and how she felt.

But her plan hadn't worked out that way. Upon returning to the hotel she'd found Commander Tucker waiting for her. He'd explained the predicament about his luggage and how he'd had to return. He told her that he was staying at the same hotel as her tonight.

He'd asked her if she had any plans. She'd replied that she was hoping to meet a friend, so he asked her for a rain check. She tried to contact the captain at his apartment several times but to no avail; there was no reply. Disheartened, she'd sought Trip out, and told him if he still needed a dinner partner, she'd accompany him. She thought an evening with him might just get her mind off Jonathan for a few hours.

So she'd been shocked to see Jonathan and Phlox together. And knowing the captain, she could just imagine what was going through his mind. She hadn't even had a chance to deny his accusations about her relationship with Trip. Her having dinner with him, alone, would only convince Archer further that there was something going on between them.

She nibbled at her vegetarian rice dish.

"You sure don't seem fine," Trip noted. "Should have seen your face when we bumped into Phlox and the cap'n, it was like all the color drained from it. Is it the cap'n? Is that's what's bothering ya?"

"Nothing's bothering me. I apologize if I'm not very good company."

"I can go tell him right now that there's nothing between us, that it's just a dinner between friends. Don't worry, this won't affect your application to Starfleet. Besides, crewmembers socialize with each other all the time — it's no big deal."

"I'm not worried."

Trip gave up and started yapping on about the Caymans, the pristine beaches, the crystal clear waters and how T'Pol should come with him. "You'd have a great time, I promise."

"I don't really feel up to a vacation at the present time. But I appreciate the offer."

"Suit yourself then. But you don't know what yer missing."

They finished their meal, paid the check and approached Phlox and Archer. T'Pol decided the best course of action was not to say anything. Whatever Jonathan thought of her…well she couldn't reverse that thinking…not in a public place at least.

"Change your mind, Cap'n?" Trip asked Archer.

"Er…no, just keeping Phlox company till you arrived. I'll be heading off now."

Jonathan thanked the doctor for dinner and his company, and politely uttered goodbyes to Trip and T'Pol.

He decided to walk back home. In a way he was glad the way things had worked out tonight. Any notions he'd had about T'Pol caring about him in a certain way had now been erased. It was obvious Trip was the man of her choice. Whatever she'd been trying to tell him this morning…well it wasn't that she loved him.

He got home, kicked off his shoes and slouched on the sofa for a while watching some old movie. When that finished, he shut off the television and got ready for bed. The apartment was so silent; he missed the familiar hum of the warp engines. He also missed the proximity of the crew. Here in his apartment building he was completely alone. One was never really alone on a starship.

At times like this he wondered if he'd have been happier if he had listened to Maggie. He could have taken a desk job at Starfleet and she'd have married him. By now he could have been the proud father of two or three kids. And he wouldn't have to go to bed alone. It would be nice to curl up with a warm feminine body at night. A woman who loved him and cared for him, and could soothe all his troubles away.

God, he was becoming a sentimental fool! He crawled into bed and turned out the lights, hoping for a dreamless sleep.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Redemption**

**Chapter 5**

T'Pol's night had been anything but restful. She'd lain awake for several hours in her room, gazing up at the ceiling trying to figure things out in her head. She didn't like the way things had been left between her and the captain, and bumping into him last night at the restaurant had not aided the matter.

She was perplexed as to why it had been so difficult for her to say what she wanted. She'd never had difficulties in getting to the point with Archer before, why now? The night she'd found him in the conference room she'd been prepared to confess her feelings, but his reaction had been unexpected. Was that the reason then? That every time she tried to tell him something he made himself unapproachable and distant. In addition, since returning to Earth he seemed so short-tempered and irritable.

However, despite all these rationalisations, she was not proud of her cowardice. She'd come to his apartment to tell him something and at the first sign of his irritability she'd skulked away out of sight. Her behaviour was definitely unVulcan.

As the events of the last two days ran through her mind, none of it made any sense. When he'd been drunk, and they'd been kissing in his bedroom he'd begged her not to leave. And he'd told her he loved her. So what did that mean?

And what of his accusations that she was experimenting on him and Commander Tucker? Was that his opinion of her?

She didn't need to have a psychology degree to know that he was suffering. Serving with him for the last three years she'd learned to pick up on his moods with ease. It might not be evident to strangers, his performance during the "Good to be home" speech in front of thousands only a few days ago had been exemplary. But it was only a veneer. Underneath he was in pain.

She'd tried to reach out to him numerous times — after the incident with the Osaarian she'd attempted to reason with him and get him to open up: he'd refused. She'd even suggested he see Phlox for a check up. He'd agreed and the doctor had given him a clean bill of health. Afterwards, he'd called her into his Ready Room, handed the medical report to her stating that he was both sound in body and mind, and her concern was unfounded.

When she'd discovered he'd given the order to Phlox to create a clone of Trip, she'd felt personally hurt that he'd never consulted with her on the decision. It was something she'd become accustomed to — before the Expanse he'd rarely made any shipboard decisions without her input.

All these decisions took a heavy toll on him. Perhaps that was why he hadn't involved her in them — he didn't want her to be party to the guilt.

She wondered if he had any idea that she'd resigned from the High Command and accompanied Enterprise into the Expanse primarily because of him. Did he think it was just some kind of deep-seated Vulcan loyalty? If he did, then he had no idea just how deep her feelings for him went.

She could have told him that day in the Ready Room when she'd requested not to be returned to Vulcan. But then she ran the risk of him returning her to Vulcan anyway. So she thought she'd tell him after they entered the Expanse.

Days had turned to weeks and weeks into months and still she hadn't spoken. By that time so much had changed; she had very little spare time, working longer hours. She'd hoped by volunteering for extra shifts it would entail spending more time with Archer, but to her disappointment he preferred to work alone. Her off-hours had been spent trying to meditate and aiding Commander Tucker in acquiring a few hours sleep each night through neuropressure.

Any attempt she'd made to talk to the captain was thwarted. He just seemed to close everyone out, locking himself up for hours in the Command Center.

So she'd bided her time, hoping for some opportunity to say something. But it had never presented itself…until two days ago when she'd found him in the conference center. It had seemed a good time to talk; he was alone and she thought maybe he would welcome discussing something other than the Expanse — why not discuss their personal relationship?

She'd hoped to soothe away his pain. Her wish had been to get him to talk about his feelings, what was troubling him, and to assure him of her deep affections. She'd expected him to be pleased at her declaration. Yet it had all gone so terribly wrong.

Glancing at the clock beside her bed she noted it was 7am. There wasn't any point in continuing with her contemplations — so she got up, showered and dressed.

Maybe she should contact her mother and inform her there was a change of plans and she'd be coming to Vulcan earlier than planned. She'd deliberately given herself two weeks, hoping to spend that time with Jonathan. Knowing her mother though, there'd probably be a hundred questions asking why the plans had changed and she didn't want to go into details.

She meandered downstairs to the restaurant for some breakfast. She missed Chef's cooking — no one here could approximate Vulcan cuisine. A bowl of Plomeek broth sounded appealing, but she'd probably have to wait till her return to Vulcan before she tasted anything like it.

She could go over to the Vulcan compound and have breakfast in their main dining area but since resigning her commission she felt like an outcast and doubted she'd be very welcome there.

If she had her own apartment like Jonathan she could have made it herself. Or if she'd been staying with Jonathan…

She tossed that thought aside; that was never going to happen. He wasn't going to invite her to be his house guest or anything else for that matter.

She seated herself down at a table in the corner of the room. A waiter came over and she informed him that she'd help herself from the buffet, but requested some mint tea. He said he'd be right back with that.

She walked over to the buffet. There seemed to be a generous amount of various kinds of fruits. Taking a plate, she piled on a few slices of several types of melon. She also took a banana, an apple and a few grapes. Content with her choices, she returned to her table.

"May I join you?" a familiar voice asked.

She looked up to find Commander Tucker standing over her.

"If you like." It wasn't a very inviting tone, but she wasn't in the mood for company. On the other hand, a direct no might be considered rude.

"Well I'm all packed and ready. Taking the 10am shuttle. You sure you don't wanna join me?"

"I'm sure."

The waiter came over with T'Pol's mint tea and asked Trip what he wanted. The Commander ordered a hearty American breakfast: pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns, sausage and two slices of wheat toast along with a pot of coffee.

"You'll be tired for the rest of the day after all that," T'Pol commented.

"Well if I only ate what you're eating, I'd be hungry within an hour. My mom always said to start the day with a hearty breakfast."

"I see."

"So you sleep well?" Trip enquired.

"Yes," she lied.

"Sure doesn't sound it. More like you got up on the wrong side of the bed if you ask me. You still peeved about last night?"

"I don't understand your question."

"I mean upset…is something bothering ya? You've been out of sorts ever since the restaurant thing last night. If you need to talk to someone about whatever's wrong, I'm willing to listen."

"There's nothing wrong with me," she reiterated.

"Okay, I give up then, but not for lack of trying."

"Trip, for some reason you seem to think there is something wrong with me, yet not once have I heard you mention the Captain."

"The Captain? What's he got to do with this?"

"You haven't noticed how he's changed?"

"Sure he's changed. The Expanse changed everyone."

"I don't mean just that. He seems…troubled."

"Hmm…I guess it was odd that he didn't wanna join us for drinks last night. I thought he might just be tired."

Trip's breakfast was served and he tucked in, pouring lashings of maple syrup over his pancakes. "Wanna a bit?" he offered.

She shook her head. "I believe there was more going on last night than the captain being tired," she continued with her line of thought.

"You could be right. Hmm…guess I haven't been much of a friend. If I wasn't leaving for the Caymans this morning I could go check up on him. Thing is…I don't even know if we are friends anymore. It's been more like the commander and captain and nothing more for the last year. I just don't feel it's my place to say anythin'."

"I have felt similarly. The Captain and I were close friends before the Expanse, and that no longer seems to be the case."

Trip could have sworn the Vulcan was on the edge of becoming emotional. Was she in love with the captain? Was that what this was all about?

"T'Pol, I don't know if it makes any difference, but if you ask me, he thinks the world of you. You're definitely one of the most important people in his life."

T'Pol wanted to believe what Tucker told her, but it seemed as if the engineer was just trying to cheer her up in his usual southern manner.

"I could say the same about you. When you were injured and Phlox told him you wouldn't come out of the coma, he was beyond devastated."

"He wouldn't line the ship with Trellium because of you," Trip reminded her.

"I suppose we could both say that he's very caring of his crew."

"Couldn't agree with you more on that point. Never met a more caring, concerned captain, and believe me, I've worked with a number of commanding officers."

"As have I." She sipped her mint tea and remembered how Jonathan had gone back for her on the snowy platform on Rigel Ten during their very first mission. He hadn't even liked her at the time, but protecting his crew was his first priority. It was doubtful that a Vulcan captain would have done the same thing.

"How long will you be gone?" she asked Trip, wanting to change the subject. Discussing Jonathan seemed to be making her feel emotional, and not having slept just exacerbated her current state.

"I'll be in the Caymans for about two weeks. Then I might go to South Carolina. An old college friend invited me over to Myrtle Beach. After that, I'm not sure. Two months waiting for Enterprise to be repaired is a lot of time to kill."

She nodded in agreement and finished up her fruit. "Will you not be seeing your parents?"

"Oh they came to San Francisco for the welcome home ceremony. They're also looking to move to the west coast now, maybe Oregon or Washington. So they're house hunting at the moment."

"I see," she said pushing away her plate. "Well I wish you a pleasant vacation," she said getting up to leave.

"Thanks, T'Pol. Hope you have a nice time on Vulcan."

She bid him goodbye and left the restaurant pondering what to do with her day. She went back to her room and freshened up. Should she try and get in touch with Archer again or would the effort be futile?

She hated how much was left unsaid between them, and she did owe him an apology for disappearing like that yesterday morning. Trip's comment about her being such an important person to the captain had served to encourage her a little.

She made up her mind to go see him, though decided not to give him any warning. She'd just go to the apartment, and hoped he'd be there.

* * *

Jonathan woke up to the sound of his front door buzzing. Checking his clock he noted it was just after 9am. Who could it be at this time? It better not be some damn eager reporter, cause he was in no mood for their questions. He thought they'd all given up on him two nights ago.

The door buzzed again. "Okay, I'm coming!" he shouted. He didn't even bother putting on his robe, but went to the door shirtless, dressed only in his PJ bottoms.

"What's the rush?" he demanded, as he unlocked the door. Standing on the other side of his threshold was the last person he'd expected.

"Good morning, Captain. I'm sorry if I woke you." Judging from his appearance that's exactly what she had done. However, it was unusual for him to sleep in. Perhaps she shouldn't make a big deal of it; after all he was off-duty and didn't have a ship to run.

"What is it this time, T'Pol? More riddles?" he asked, his face contorted into a frown.

"Would you mind if I came in?" She felt self-conscious just standing in the hallway with a half-naked man at the door.

"Sure, why not? Haven't had my fill of games yet."

Hmm…this was not starting out well. He was obviously in a bad mood and angry in regard to all that had transpired between them. Last night's encounter at the restaurant had probably just enraged him further.

"Next time you disappear though, can you make sure you shut my door properly? You left it slightly ajar yesterday."

"I wasn't aware that I did. I apologize, Captain," she said as she walked in.

"Back to Captain now is it, T'Pol? It was Jonathan yesterday and the day before."

Was he disappointed at her not calling him by his first name? "What would you prefer?" she asked.

He shrugged his bare shoulders telling her the decision was entirely her choice. "I'm sorry…Jonathan."

"For what?" he asked shutting the door behind her.

"For disappearing yesterday, for not shutting your door properly. Actually, I'd like to apologize for everything. I haven't been very good at communicating with you recently. Though your sarcasm doesn't help much."

"No, I guess it doesn't," he agreed. He suddenly remembered he wasn't dressed and he probably looked a sight — hair standing up, unshaven and all. "Wanna sit down and wait while I get dressed?"

"Yes," she replied and sat down on the sofa.

"Make yourself at home, if there's anything you need — something to eat or drink, just help yourself," he offered.

"I will, thank you." She got up, filled the kettle with water and turned it on to boil. She riffled through his selection of teas and decided to try one of the fruit variety — Celestial Seasonings' Blackcurrent and Vanilla. Though he hadn't asked her, she selected one for him too — Orange Spice. She didn't know why but instinct told her this was his favourite.

She filled two mugs with boiling water, leaving the tea bags in to infuse. She carried the drinks over to the coffee table, sat down and waited.

Porthos came over to investigate who the visitor was. He placed a paw on her leg. She stroked his head as she had that time in Sickbay when she'd thought Jonathan was dead.

Jonathan reappeared, looking more like his usual self, hair brushed and shaven. He'd dressed in black pants and a bright blue shirt that was very becoming. "Sorry if Porthos is bothering you, T'Pol. He's probably hungry."

"He doesn't disturb me."

"Oh?" Jonathan was surprised at her response. "Come here, boy," he called to Porthos, filling his bowl with dog food. Porthos trotted over and had soon forgotten his master's visitor, swallowing his breakfast in large gulps.

Jonathan went to sit with T'Pol. "Since when did you take a liking to Porthos?"

"We became better acquainted when you were off destroying the Xindi weapon. He went into a sort of depression, or at least that's what Phlox called it, when he thought you were dead."

"And you comforted him?"

"Phlox took care of him most of the time, though I did take him for a walk around the ship a few times."

"I'm impressed, T'Pol. I never thought you'd come to tolerate my primitive quadruped. He still doesn't speak and he can't use a toilet."

"You have a good memory, Captain." They'd had that conversation almost two years ago, the night Porthos had been sick.

"Certain phrases stick in my head."

"I made you some tea — I hope you like Orange Spice," T'Pol said trying to stir the conversation away from its current negative direction.

"Thanks, actually it's my favourite." He took a sip.

"I suppose you haven't eaten yet?"

"Nope, I think I was still asleep when you rang the door."

"If you want to have something to eat…I can wait. We don't have to talk at this exact minute." She felt a little nervous; if he talked with a full stomach the outcome could be more favourable.

"Not hungry. The tea is fine. Besides, I don't think there's anything in the apartment. I haven't been to the store yet. When we arrived back, I got in touch with my doorman and asked him if he could get a few things for me. But I think I've used up most of what he bought."

"You don't feel up to going shopping?" she asked with a note of concern.

"T'Pol, maybe you haven't experienced the phenomenon yet, but it gets very tiring when you are asked for your autograph every two minutes."

"Of course, I understand. If you'd like me to purchase anything for you—"

"No, thanks."

Her eyes wandered around the apartment studying the furnishings. It was sparsely decorated but she assumed it fit his needs. He was hardly ever here anyway. She needed to get to the point of her visit, but kept stalling for time.

"How was your dinner with Doctor Phlox?" she asked.

"The food was good. How was your dinner with Trip?"

"The food was acceptable."

"So did Trip leave for the Caymans?"

"He said this morning at breakfast that he was departing at 10am."

"You had breakfast together?" Of course they did! Why ask such stupid questions? They probably spent the night together. Sometimes he acted so dense.

"He was staying at the same hotel as me — but it's not what you think, Captain."

"Doesn't really matter what I think, does it?" He didn't really care to hear any explanations. After last night he'd decided to just accept the reality of Trip and T'Pol's relationship.

"It matters…to me. Somehow you've conjured up the wrong impression."

"Is that what you came here for? To tell me that my impressions are wrong?"

She sighed in exasperation and Vulcans rarely sighed. He wasn't going to budge an inch was he? He just had to continue being sarcastic and close minded.

"Impressions are interesting things. For example, one could say from the small amount of information they garnered that you and the slave girl Rajiin had a relationship, or to put it in human terms — a one night stand."

"Nothing happened, you read my report."

"Do you expect me to believe that a starship captain would note in his report to Admiral Forrest that he'd taken advantage of an alien slave girl?"

"If anyone was taken advantage of it was me, and whoever else she attacked," he replied, trying to keep his anger in check. T'Pol was really pushing his buttons.

"Fair enough. It was an illustration — I was trying to show you how people's impressions can be misconstrued. All it seems to take is a private dinner alone and rumours are flying all over the ship."

"So I had dinner alone with her! Big deal. I've had dinner alone with you countless times, no one ever started any rumours about us."

T'Pol tried to remember the last time she'd had dinner alone with him. It had been before the Xindi attack on Earth. Trip hadn't attended as he was watching a movie in his quarters with Malcolm. It had been the first time the captain and her had been alone since her pathogen induced Pon Farr.

She'd been glad of his company, and the opportunity to explain to him about her illness. He'd been a kind and sympathetic listener, and she'd felt his concern for her. They'd talked for hours, and didn't leave the Captain's Mess till after 2300 hours. Jonathan had walked her back to her cabin and there'd been a moment where she'd thought he might kiss her, but then had pulled back as if he didn't have the courage. If only she'd encouraged him…

"No they didn't, but maybe that's because we are captain and first officer, and it's not unusual for us to eat together. I'm curious am I getting my point across?" she asked.

"You're comparing Rajiin and me to you and Trip?"

"Basically — yes."

"There's no comparison. Nothing happened between Rajiin and me."

"And what makes you so certain "something" happened between the commander and myself?"

"T'Pol, I may have been rather preoccupied with the Xindi mission, but please give me some credit, I'm not blind."

"You witnessed the commander and myself engaging in romantic activities?"

"Er…no…but—"

"Then you have nothing to base your assumptions on except idle gossip started by bored crewmembers."

Jonathan didn't know what to think and he didn't know why he was having a problem in believing T'Pol. It was just that he'd been so certain of her having a relationship with Trip. Everything had pointed to it, including their dinner last night at Madame Chang's and then T'Pol telling him they'd had breakfast together this morning.

"I don't know. Do we have to talk about this?"

"Jonathan, if I denied having a relationship with Commander Tucker, are you saying you wouldn't believe me?"

"T'Pol, I don't know what to believe anymore." He got up from the sofa and went to stand by the living room window. It was unlike T'Pol to lie, so why not believe her? Or maybe she was attempting to spare his feelings. Perhaps there had been something between them, but if it was already over she might just want to sweep it under the rug so to speak.

He sighed. There were too many other things going on his head right now to worry about whether T'Pol and Trip had engaged in a relationship.

T'Pol got up and went to join him by the window. "Talk to me, Jonathan."

"I have nothing to say," he whispered, not looking at her but fixing his gaze on a couple crossing the street below him.

"You rather keep everything locked up inside? If you don't talk to someone it will eat you inside out."

"Why is it so hard for everyone to comprehend. I don't want to talk — and there's nothing to say."

She touched his arm but he flinched away. "You said you loved me."

He turned to face her, shocked at her words. "You must be joking!" He tried to make light of it.

"The other night, here in this apartment, you said you loved me." She felt confident those had been his words as he kissed her.

"Oh, that," he answered, sounding as if he remembered. "You shouldn't be so naïve, T'Pol.""I don't know what you mean.""I was drunk, remember?"

"Yes, I recall but—"

"Well then you should know better than to believe the ramblings of a drunk man." He couldn't remember saying those words to her, but he'd probably meant them at the time. Heck, he still meant them, but there was no future for them.

"Jonathan, there've been many times when you've expressed how much you care for me. Perhaps I was mistaken but when you helped me capture Menos, when you defended me on Dekendii III in front of the Vulcan doctors, when you saved me on the Seleya and then didn't line the ship with Trellium…I began to believe…"

He didn't want to hear about those times, or even remember them. She was right; he had done those things because of his personal feelings for her. "I don't want to reminisce, T'Pol."

"Yesterday you asked me if you hadn't been drunk, would something have happened between us and I was too embarrassed to answer. Well I'll answer now — yes I believe it would." She paused, then added, "Jonathan, I care about you a great deal."

"Lucky I fell asleep then, or we'd have both done something we regretted."

She didn't understand his reaction. She'd told him she cared about him, and yet he still rejected her. Something was eating away at him, and she felt clueless as to how to reach him and somehow help him.

"That wasn't your attitude yesterday morning, if it had been, you wouldn't have asked."

"That's your supposition."

"I don't understand you anymore. In fact, I don't think I know you anymore."

"Apparently I've changed."

"If you're not willing to talk to me, I think you should talk to someone."

"That was Phlox's tune last night, I won't be any more receptive to it coming from you."

"Fine, don't talk to anyone. But do you think you'll be fit to command Enterprise in two months?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"It's my opinion that you should get off your chest whatever is bothering you and before Enterprise is back in commission again."

This conversation was getting tiring. His stomach growled. He should go out for some breakfast. He didn't want to hear T'Pol's reprimands. She only reminded him of how bad he already felt about himself.

"I'm going to get some breakfast at the Spacedock Cafeteria."

"Do you believe anything I have told you?" she asked with exasperation in her voice.

"You haven't said anything new…you think I need to talk about my feelings and you've reiterated that you care about me. Okay I get it. Now I'm going to get some breakfast. You can come if you want."

She didn't answer, just stood rooted to the spot and watched him walk into the bedroom. It seemed there was no way to get through to him.

Jonathan collected his wallet from his bedside, put on his shoes and slipped his door keycard into his pants' pocket. "So, you coming or not then?"

In answer she followed him out the door. Why she was going with him she didn't know. Maybe after breakfast he'd be more forthcoming and communicative. Somehow she doubted it…but still she went.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Redemption**

**Chapter 6**

T'Pol studied her surroundings. So this was the famous Spacedock Cafeteria she'd heard Tucker and Archer mention many times on Enterprise. It was a modern day American cafeteria style diner. It was obvious that it was a popular choice amongst Starfleet personnel — as she scanned the room she noticed that more than half the diner's occupants were in Starfleet uniforms. This was probably the reason Jonathan had chosen to come here; he wouldn't get bombarded with requests for autographs every few minutes.

"You said you weren't hungry," she commented as his breakfast was served. It was more than Tucker had ordered earlier back at the hotel.

"Our conversation gave me an appetite I guess."

"Oh."

Jonathan tucked into his food with eagerness, washing it down with plenty of coffee. Within the space of two minutes he'd downed a whole mug and was asking the waitress for a refill. "You want anything to drink, T'Pol?"

"No, thank you."

"Okay, suit yourself." He continued to eat. Several moments passed without either of them saying anything. Jonathan concentrated on his breakfast, while T'Pol studied the other occupants of the diner watching the waitresses scurry back and forth with their orders.

"Why didn't you go to Vulcan straight after the welcoming ceremony?" Jonathan asked her, breaking the silence between them. "Before we disembarked Enterprise, you said you were leaving straight away."

"I changed my mind and informed my mother I would arrive two weeks later."

"What changed your mind?"

"I had hoped to spend the time with a friend."

"This friend got a name or you being cryptic on purpose? Or should I not be so nosy?""Jonathan, if I'd said I'd hoped to spend the time with you, would you have believed me?"

She had a point there. And he'd been out of sorts again with her earlier. He didn't wish to treat her rudely or get irritable, it just seemed to happen. Hmm…Phlox could have a point — professional counselling might be what he needed. Since coming back to Earth he just hadn't felt himself. The guilt had been eating away at him; and the loneliness…

Yet here was T'Pol telling him she cared about him and wanted to spend time with him, so why wasn't he wasn't willing to take her up on the offer? Any other time he'd have jumped at the chance. Was it that he was feeling just a tad too vulnerable to risk getting hurt?

"No, I guess not," he answered, taking a swig of his coffee. "Look, I've been lousy company of late. I wasn't very courteous to you this morning. My fuse seems to be so short of late, and I snap at anything or become sarcastic. You don't deserve that. You and I were close before the Expanse. And somehow it all fell apart…and I'm willing to take the blame for that."

"We can be close again, can we not?"

"I don't know." He played with his coffee mug as if he was nervous. He glanced around the room envying the guys in uniform who had clean consciences and just wanted to be explorers…like he had once.

"That guy…the one who went with you to capture Menos, who challenged the Vulcan doctors, who witnessed the dark nebula with you…I don't know what happened to him. He's not around anymore."

"I believe he is." She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. She was surprised when he didn't pull it away.

"Do you, T'Pol? He wouldn't have done what I did. He wouldn't have committed piracy, stranding innocent people in space."

Ah, so finally she knew what the problem was — The Illyrians. That's what was torturing him. She'd been completely against his decision to begin with, even losing her temper in his Ready Room at the mere suggestion of committing such an act. But then he'd had both hands tied behind his back — what could he have done? What would she have done in his place if Vulcan had been under the threat of annihilation?

"I should have gone back," she stated.

"What do you mean, T'Pol?"

"Instead of letting the Aquatic ship take us back to Earth, I should have searched for the Illyrians."

"Even if you had found them and returned their engine back, you'd have been in the Expanse.""I could have asked the Xindi Humanoids and Aquatics for their help. So you see, you're not the only one who feels guilty."

"You were against my decision from the moment you heard it."

"Yes…but you were correct when you said you had no choice. We might not be sitting here right now if you hadn't made that decision."

"Maybe…but where does one draw the line? I think I lost sight of it when I was out there." Not only lost sight of the line, but he felt like he'd lost his soul. He remembered when the Osaarian had taunted him about his morality: that it would get in his way. It seemed his words were now proving true.

"The fact that you feel remorse over these actions proves to me that you never lost sight of any line," T'Pol argued.

Jonathan finished his breakfast in silence, thinking over what T'Pol had just said. How did he move on from all these feelings though? He couldn't just forgive himself.

"Wanna go for a walk?" he asked.

"Yes. What did you have in mind?"

"How about the Golden Gate?"

"The bridge?"

"Yup — it's a fun walk, trust me."

"Very well, but I need to return to my hotel room and get some suitable walking shoes."

"Okay, I'll drive you over."

"You have a car?" she asked. They'd walked from his apartment to the diner.

"Yeah…an electric SUV. Bought it about 7 years ago when I got the apartment. Haven't used it much but it's convenient for when I'm in San Francisco. You don't always want to have to use a shuttlepod to cover short distances."

Jonathan paid the bill. They exited the cafeteria, walking back to his apartment. He told T'Pol to wait by the garage while he went upstairs to change into a sweatshirt, jeans and running shoes.

He opened the door for her and she stepped inside his car. From the look of it, it resembled the vehicle they'd stolen in Detroit when Daniels had sent them back in time to thwart the Xindi Reptilians.

He jumped into the driver's seat and asked her where she was staying. It was only a few blocks away but it would save time if they drove. And the bridge was several miles from his apartment so taking the car had been a good idea.

"So Starfleet's footing the bill for the hotel?" he enquired.

"Yes, a lot of Enterprise's crew are staying there."

He pulled up outside the entrance and told her he'd wait. She sprinted into the building and up two flights of stairs to her room. Since she was on the 2nd floor she didn't need the use of the elevator. She changed into the only pair of jeans she possessed — the ones the quartermaster had made for her trip to Detroit. She slipped on a casual black top and then tied up her walking shoes.

"That was quick," Jonathan commented as she jumped back into the car. He shifted into drive and pulled away. "I thought we'd drive across the bridge first, then park up at the scenic overlook — you can have a good look at the whole bridge from that vantage point. It's a great view. Then we can walk the length of the bridge, if you still want to."

"That sounds agreeable."

As they drove across Jonathan was reminded once more of his first journey across the Golden Gate with his father. Maybe that's why he'd brought T'Pol here, because the bridge held a sentimental value to him and he wanted to share that with her.

He took the first exit off the highway where the bridge ended, following the sign to the scenic overlook. He drove up a large winding hill to the parking lot. They exited the car and together went to look out onto the horizon.

Jonathan had been right; it was a magnificent view of the Golden Gate and all of San Francisco. The red bridge against the navy waters of the Pacific Ocean with the rest of the city as a backdrop was very scenic. She understood why this place attracted a lot of visitors.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

"You're welcome, T'Pol."

They walked together towards the edge of the hill to get a closer view, taking a short cut across a patch of grass. It had rained in the night, and the ground was still a little water logged. A section of the grass was rather muddy and as T'Pol traversed it she slipped and would have landed face first if Jonathan, who'd been walking by her side, had not caught her in his arms before she fell. "Careful there, I've got you."

She'd straightened up but his arms remained around her shoulders. "The short cut wasn't such a good idea after all. We'll stick to the path on the way back."

"Yes," she agreed.

Their eyes locked and for a moment T'Pol thought he might kiss her, he was looking so intently at her. Their lips were only inches apart…all either of them had to do was bridge the gap.

She was disappointed when he released her. "The trail down to the bridge starts here," he pointed. "You ready to start?"

"Yes," she replied. "How far to the other side?"

"The bridge length is 1.7 miles so with the trail, I'd say we have a 2 mile walk ahead of us, 4 miles in total." That didn't seem very far to her.

The descent down to the freeway level was rather steep. Jonathan offered his hand to help her from slipping. She didn't really need it; she'd walked much steeper hills back on Vulcan, but accepted anyway. She enjoyed the feel of his hand intertwined with her own.

For the first time in two days she was beginning to think that there was a chance for them to be together. Since opening up to her in the cafeteria he'd been so different — far more pleasant.

Phlox had been right. She'd been right — he did need to talk about his feelings. She could completely understand the guilt he was feeling about the Illyrians. It would have concerned her if he didn't feel any remorse on the matter. But she hated to see it plague him so. There had to be some solution to this problem so he'd finally forgive himself for the deed and move on with his life.

When they reached the bottom of the hill he let her hand go and took a swig from his water bottle. Then he noticed she didn't have one and asked her why.

"Vulcans don't need as much water as humans do. This is a very short walk, I doubt I'll be thirsty. I've certainly consumed enough liquids this morning to keep hydrated."

"Okay, well if you want a sip, just let me know. I've got more than enough water."

"Thank you."

They didn't talk much as they hiked across the bridge. It was rather noisy with the traffic roaring by and the powerful wind that blew their hair in all directions. She watched as other joggers sifted past them.

At the mid-point they stopped to watch a ship sail underneath them. It was a large cargo ship full of containers probably bound for Asia. It cleared the bridge with only two or three feet to spare.

Leaning over the edge, she looked to her right to see the waves crashing against the rocks. Straight in front of her she saw nothing but miles and miles of ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. The Pacific was the largest stretch of water on this planet.

Jonathan asked if she was ready to continue and she answered in the affirmative. Having lived in Sausalito before joining the crew of Enterprise, she wondered why she'd never walked the bridge before. But then these kinds of activities had never been encouraged at the Vulcan compound.

When they reached the end of the bridge, they turned around to survey the area they'd walked. T'Pol felt a little chilled from the strong winds, her top was thin and wasn't very insulating.

Jonathan noticed she seemed to be shivering. "We could go to the tea room in the Japanese Gardens at Golden Gate Park. They have a variety of blends, I'm sure one that would suit your tastes and the hot drink might warm you up a bit."

If he'd worn something under his sweatshirt he would have taken that off and offered it to her. He thought about putting his arm around her and her warming herself from his body heat, but didn't feel it would be appropriate.

"Yes, that's a good idea. Is this tea room far?"

"Nope, not more than a five minute walk."

As soon as they entered the building, a blend of different aromas wafted through their noses — smells of spices and herbal teas. T'Pol was glad to be somewhere where she could warm up a little.

They sat down at an empty table. "You're probably hungry," Jonathan noted. "You didn't eat a thing at the Spacedock Cafeteria. You did have breakfast today, didn't you?"

"I had some fruit at the hotel this morning."

"What time was that?"

"7:30am."

"It's 1pm now. You must be famished."

"I'm a little hungry. Is there anything here you'd recommend?"

"Let's have a look," he answered and studied the menu.

"You could ask for the house salad without any dressings, with some naan bread," he suggested.

"That sounds appetising." She looked at the description of the house salad. It contained crisp iceberg lettuce leaves with peppers, cucumbers, tomato, celery, cucumber, raw broccoli and onions. Yes, she liked the sound of that.

The waitress came over and Jonathan ordered the salad for her and a turkey wrap for himself with a bag of chips.

"Anything to drink?" the waitress asked.

"I'll have English Breakfast Tea," Jonathan ordered and waited for T'Pol to say which blend she wanted to try.

"I'll have Darjeeling please."

The waitress nodded and walked off to get their orders.

"You know that has caffeine, don't you?" He'd been surprised by her order, she rarely drank anything caffienated as far as he was aware.

"Of course. Vulcans are immune to the effects of caffeine."

"Well you learn something new every day." He smiled.

"I'm glad your mood has improved."

Yes it had. He felt a lot better than he had this morning. And he felt guilty for how snappish and uncivilised he'd acted towards T'Pol the last two days. Whether she was in a relationship with Trip or not, she hadn't warranted such behaviour. He didn't want to think about that though — he was living in the moment, enjoying her company, the fresh air and the sites and sounds of San Francisco.

The waitress returned with their teas. "Do you have any milk or creamer?" Jonathan asked. She returned in a couple seconds with a small jug filled with milk.

"You drink your tea with milk?" T'Pol queried.

"This blend, yes. The English always drink their tea with milk. What do you think of the Darjeeling blend?"

"It has a fascinating taste, I believe I like it."

Several minutes later their food arrived. T'Pol tucked into her salad — it was delicious. "Thank you for suggesting this place. I would have been hungry if we'd walked back to the car without stopping somewhere."

He opened his bag of chips and offered her one. Despite not usually eating with her fingers, she took a few and munched on them. They were salty just like the popcorn she'd consumed when going to movie night aboard Enterprise.

"Do you think you're gonna be cold on the walk back?" He wondered if there were any stores in the area where they could get her a sweatshirt or maybe a jacket.

"I should be fine, perhaps the wind has died down by now."

"Hmm…I doubt it. It's usually stronger later in the afternoon. I'd offer you my sweatshirt, but I don't have anything on underneath."

"Well you wouldn't want to distract the female drivers on the bridge."

"What?" he laughed.

The comment had just slipped out without her thinking. Now she felt rather embarrassed. She tried to think up something quickly to explain herself.

"I've heard certain female ensigns discuss your…physique." This wasn't a lie, but at least the explanation detracted from her own feelings. She had once overheard Hoshi being questioned by another ensign asking about how the captain looked in decon.

"You have?" He was astonished. He had absolutely no idea. "Who?"

"You'd never look at them the same way if I told you, Jonathan."

"Okay, but I can't imagine anyone saying something like that about me."

"Then you're too modest."

He wasn't sure how to answer that one. Was he too modest? Did she find him attractive? It felt like eons since a woman had found him attractive.

They finished up their lunch and departed. As they exited the tea room they noted how bright and sunny it was. "It feels much warmer now," T'Pol stated.

Despite Jonathan's prediction of it being even winder on the return trip, it wasn't so. The slight wind was actually in their favour, as it was blowing in the direction they were walking. They strolled along the opposite side of the bridge which was the right side; T'Pol could see the island of Alcatrez as she glanced to her right. In the bay area were a few small craft, mostly sail boats taking advantage of the winds. She wondered if the occupants didn't feel slightly nauseous, the waves seemed to toss the boats around as if they were constructed from nothing more than cardboard.

"Have you ever been sailing?" she asked Jonathan.

"Pardon?" He hadn't heard her as a large vehicle had just driven past them.

"Nothing." There was no point trying to shout over the noise. She could always ask him on their drive back.

T'Pol kept a steady pace, a little faster than their earlier walk but Jonathan assumed it was to keep herself warm. "We can jog if you prefer," he suggested.

She'd heard him and nodded in accord. Within ten minutes they'd arrived back at the Sausalito side of the bridge. Now they needed to climb up the hill to the car park.

Jonathan stopped for a moment before starting the final part of their journey and took out his water bottle. He offered her some but she declined. "You're a fast runner," he commented.

"I thought you already knew that. We've been in the gym together on the treadmills several times."

"I know," he smiled. "You ready for the last leg then?"

"Of course."

The walk up the hill was steep but seemed easier than the walk down, where one could easily have slipped. Within a few minutes they'd returned to their starting point — the scenic overlook.

T'Pol gazed out at the view once more and noted the low clouds surrounding the upper part of the bridge.

"We're lucky there's no fog today," Jonathan said. "Might have obscured the entire view."

"Yes…it does get foggy here in the mornings and nights especially." She recalled that from her time living in Sausalito.

Jonathan glanced at his watch — it was just coming up to 2pm. He wondered what to suggest next. Did she want to spend the rest of the day with him or should he just take her back to the hotel? He didn't know. If he suggested something, would she just agree because she was being polite or because she felt sorry for and didn't want him to be alone?

He hated that thought. He didn't want her pity. He wanted her to be with him because that's what she really wanted — no other reason. But he wasn't sure what her motivations were. She'd told him she cared…but caring for someone could encompass so many different things. He would have felt more secure if she'd used another four letter word beginning with L, but didn't think that would ever happen. And he still wasn't sure what exactly was going on between her and Trip. If there was something there, he didn't want to come between them.

"What shall we do next?" she asked to his surprise and delight. It was much easier now to suggest something.

"What would you like to do, T'Pol?"

"I am uncertain. I'm not accustomed to having so much free time on my hands. When I lived here before joining Enterprise, I normally spent my off-hours reading Surak's Teachings, meditating or exercising."

"You never left the compound?"

"Rarely."

He opened the car door for her and she stepped inside.

"Rarely doesn't mean never," he commented as he got into the driver's seat.

"True. I was curious about the outside world. A few times I left the compound at night, after my shift was over and I'd wander into Sausalito."

"Where did you go?"

"There was a quaint little jazz club, less than a mile from the compound. The music was…enticing."

"You like jazz, huh?"

"It is appealing, yes."

Well wonders would never cease! What other revelations would she come up with? Just when he thought he knew pretty much everything about her — including some very personal information like her Pa'nar syndrome and her history with the Ministry of Security, she'd tell him something like this. It made him more curious and anxious to learn about her personal likes and dislikes.

"So have you thought of what we should do next?" she asked.

"Hmm…still pondering. Ever been to Lombard Street?"

"No…what is significant about it?"

"I'll show you when we get there. From there we could take a cable car ride. Unfortunately most of them are replicas of the originals now, but you still get a feel for what it must have been like back in the 1800s. How's that sound?"

"Interesting." It was kind of Jonathan to offer to be a tour guide, but what she valued most was just being able to spend time alone with him. She wanted to treasure every minute they'd shared today and remember it always.

He turned the key in the ignition and drove towards Lombard Street. "You were going to ask me something on the bridge, but I didn't hear you."

"Oh yes, I wanted to ask you if you'd ever gone sailing."

"Only as a passenger. Before Maxwell Forrest became an Admiral he had a lot more time on his hands, he even had his own sailing boat. He invited A.G and me to sail down the coast to Los Angeles one weekend."

"Was this during the NX-Project?"

"About a month before it was officially commissioned. A.G. and I had just returned from another bout of survival training in the Australian desert and were in need of a break. Forrest's suggestion was just the ticket."

"You didn't get sea sick?"

"Nope. We were lucky though…the ocean was calm that weekend."

"I'm glad I was not a passenger on any of the sail boats in the bay today."

"Yeah…if you're prone to that kind of thing, today wouldn't be a good day for sailing. But then San Francisco is famous for its windy weather. It comes with the territory…you need a strong stomach if you want to go out sailing in those winds."

Their journey to Lombard Street didn't take too long. He parked on the corner, so she wouldn't see the street until after she got out of the car. He wanted it to be a surprise.

"So what do you think?" he asked as they looked upwards.

"Is it this way for aesthetic reasons or some other purpose?" She surveyed the crooked street with its byzantine curves and found it attractive. It was certainly unusual and unlike all the other streets she'd seen in San Francisco.

"Sure it looks nice but the real reason is for safety. It's a treacherous slope that's very steep."

"I see."

"Would you like to walk up or catch the cable car now?" He asked.

"I don't mind, whatever you prefer."

He hoped he wasn't boring her, but since she didn't seem that enthusiastic about climbing the street, he decided the cable car ride would probably be the best decision. They caught one a few blocks from where they'd left the car.

This was certainly a rudimentary form of travel but T'Pol assumed it was the height of technology back in the 1800s. Though it was somewhat basic, it was in the spirit of the city, and she regretted not having ridden on one before. She found the wind blowing through her hair as the tram glided down a hill, but it was not unpleasant.

She glanced at Jonathan and he looked straight at her and smiled. He had such a handsome face and it was further accentuated when he smiled. It was a welcome change from the sober serious look he'd sported for most of the last year. She'd been right in the cafeteria this morning — the man who'd accompanied her on the mission to capture Menos was still around. He was sitting next to her at this very minute.

They disembarked at Fisherman's Wharf and explored a little before catching the tram back. There were many stores located here, selling all manner of merchandise. She passed one that looked like it was a health food store and an idea popped into her head.

"Would you mind if we went in?" she asked Jonathan.

"Sure, if you want." He wondered what she might be interested in here.

She asked the assistant for several types of ingredients — none of which he'd heard of. She seemed pleased when the assistant was able to provide her with all that she'd listed. She purchased the items and they left.

"May I ask what that's for?"

"Of course. The items I purchased most closely resemble the ingredients I'd use to make plomeek broth. I haven't consumed any Vulcan food in days; I'm beginning to miss it. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to borrow your kitchen later today and make some."

"I don't mind at all. I'm sorry, I should have realized that you're missing Chef's cooking. You know he lives just outside the city, I could ask him to whip something up for you."

"There's no need. The broth will suffice for tonight."

"Okay."

They continued walking along the Wharf. Jonathan suggested they stroll out onto the newly constructed pier. As she walked by his side, he had to keep stopping himself from wrapping his arm around her shoulder or waist. He ached it do so, but again it wasn't appropriate.

Apart from his bad mood this morning, he hadn't felt this good in well…he couldn't remember — probably before the Expanse.

There was a whole flock of gulls circling the pier, some swooping down to grab a morsel of food some tourist had discarded. A few were perched on the railings. "I wish we had something to feed them," T'Pol said.

"Oh I think they're pretty well fed as it is. This place is great for scavengers."

They sat down on a bench enjoying the salt air on their faces and the pleasant view. In the distance she could see the Golden Gate and the Starfleet buildings.

T'Pol had hoped that sometime today Jonathan would let down his defences and allow his true feelings about her to surface. She'd expected him to take her hand or put his arm around her, but now it seemed evident that nothing of the sort was going to happen. Was friendship all she could hope for? It paled in comparison to what she really wanted from him.

"There's nothing between Commander Tucker and myself, Jonathan," she said out of the blue.

"Why do you bring that up now?" He frowned; they'd been having such a nice time.

"I don't understand why you won't believe me. There never was anything between us, and there isn't at present."

"T'Pol, I really don't want to discuss this."

"Why? You told me that nothing happened between you and Rajiin and I believe you. Why can't you afford me the same courtesy?"

"Okay, I do believe you," he answered. "I suppose it's just hard to sink in. I've gone around thinking the two of you were involved for a long time. I'd heard from so many different people that it was true."

For so many months he'd believed it to be true — even last night at the restaurant he'd picked up some kind of vibe between them. And now T'Pol said it wasn't true. He wanted to believe that with all his heart. He'd hated the idea of her with Trip.

"And you value their word above mine?"

"No, of course not, T'Pol. I'm sorry." He stared up the sky watching one seagull chasing another. Was it to steal food, or maybe one was interested in the other as a potential mate?

She slipped her hand gently into his, hoping he wouldn't pull away from her. "It's you I care about, Jonathan, not Trip."

He stared down at their joined hands, not sure how to react. Wasn't this what he wanted? He'd felt so lost and alone and here she was with him offering her companionship and comfort. Why couldn't he accept it?

Hadn't he been preoccupied with thoughts of being with someone? And the only someone he'd accept was T'Pol. He loved her. He'd been in love with her for over three years. But he'd told himself countless times that his feelings were unrequited, and in a way that had been a safety guard.

But oh how he hated being alone: sleeping alone, waking up alone, eating alone. It was worse now with no job to do, and with so much spare time allotted to him. So why not give in to his desires, his feelings?

Was it that he felt he didn't deserve this? A man who'd committed the crimes he had didn't deserve to be happy. At least not until the wrong had been righted…and he hadn't worked out how to do that yet.

Then he thought about T'Pol. To have a relationship with her would be the height of selfishness. She deserved much better than anything he could offer right now. She needed a whole man, not someone who was as messed up as he was right now.

"T'Pol, I can't do this." He pulled his hand from her and walked towards the railing, leaning on it.

She stood up and approached him. "Can't do what?"

"I'm your captain…we can't have a relationship, even if I wanted one." The fraternization thing was a good one to fall back on, and she'd probably believe it. It was a valid enough reason, though in different circumstances he might have broken it to be with her.

"And that's the only reason?" From his tone he didn't sound very eager about being with her, whether it was the captaincy that stood in his way or not. She regretted bringing the topic up and shattering the happy spell that had surrounded them all afternoon.

"I think we should go back to the car," he said.

Well that was that. He'd closed her out again and wasn't going to respond.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Redemption**

**Chapter 7**

They entered Jonathan's apartment and T'Pol placed her ingredients on the kitchen counter. She'd felt uncomfortable about returning to his apartment, but Jonathan had reminded her that he'd promised to let her borrow his kitchen so she could make some Plomeek broth. Despite the incident on the pier, which he wanted to forget, he didn't see any reason why she couldn't make herself at home.

The journey back had been mostly in silence. They'd left the pier, caught a cable car back to Lombard Street and then driven up here. The silence had only been interrupted when Jonathan asked if she still wanted to make Plomeek broth tonight. At first she'd said it was inconsequential and he could drop her off at her hotel. But he'd been insistent that she return with him to cook her broth, so in the end she'd acquiesced.

"If you need anything, just ask," he told her.

"Jonathan?"

"Yes?"

"What are you going to eat? I could make you some Plomeek broth if you like."

"Err…thanks, but no thanks. I sampled some back on board Enterprise…it's not really my thing."

"If you'd like to cook something for yourself, I can wait."

"Nah, go ahead. I'm not hungry. I think I'll just have a beer," he said and opened the fridge to retrieve one.

It was 5pm now, in an hour she was certain he'd be hungry. She decided to make enough broth for two people in case he changed his mind. She thought about making him a salad but then remembered that he hadn't been grocery shopping.

He fed Porthos, then seated himself on the sofa with his beer and turned on the television. Nothing much of interest there. Then he remembered something T'Pol had said earlier. He knelt down on the floor and rifled through his CD collection, looking for a specific album. Some music might be nice. When he found the item in question he popped it into his CD player.

T'Pol looked up from preparing her ingredients as the room was filled with a melodious sound. It reminded her of those rare escapades she'd made from the Vulcan compound to listen to this style of music. It was relaxing, soothing and penetrated the soul. She closed her eyes for a moment and re-imagined walking down a foggy Sausalito street late at night to her familiar haunt. She pictured herself opening the door to the smoke-filled bar and sitting alone at a table in the corner.

"Wanna dance?" A voice interrupted her memory. Her eyes flew open and she found Jonathan standing right next to her. Was he serious?

"I don't know how."

"Let me show you then," he offered.

What was with his behaviour! She considered asking Phlox to check him for bipolar disorder. Less than an hour ago he'd been silent, broody and miserable. He'd yanked his hand away from her and told her they could never have a relationship. And now he wanted to dance?

Logically she should have refused and questioned his behaviour. But the music was enticing and his offer…tempting, so momentarily she tossed logic aside and agreed.

She stepped over to the middle of the living room with him. He showed her where to place her arms correctly…for a dance lesson this was intimate! She was flush against him and he had one arm curled around her waist, while his other hand was intertwined with her own.

The saxophone played and they swayed gently to it, Jonathan leading her. This dance wasn't so hard…there really wasn't much to it, she thought. It felt more like an excuse for physical closeness…but maybe that's what dancing was all about to humans.

She closed her eyes, resting her head on his chest. His arms pulled her tightly to him. She felt safe, warm and completely surrounded by him. She could hear the steady beat of his heart intermixed with the intoxicating melody and hoped the music would never end.

Without warning, Jonathan's lips were on hers — but not like the night he'd been drunk. This was more of a gentle caress, waiting for her response before he deepened it.

"Jonathan," she whispered.

He kissed her again, this time with more passion and urgency. She felt drunk on his emotions…and while a voice in her head kept asking why and saying none of this made any sense…she chose to ignore it.

Instead she revelled in the moment: the feel of his lips on hers and his strong arms holding her so tight it was almost difficult to draw breath. But that didn't wasn't important, all that mattered was how wonderful it felt to be in his embrace, and this was where she wanted to be.

All too soon the music ended and the room was filled with silence. All that was audible to Jonathan was the pounding of his own heart. He gently released her.

"I'm sorry, T'Pol." What had he been thinking? What the hell was wrong with him?

"Don't be sorry."

He walked over to the cabinet and turned the CD player off. He didn't want any other tracks on the CD to play. His impetuous idea had been a bad mistake.

He returned to her side and studied her. Here was one confused Vulcan woman and he didn't blame her. He was a first class idiot. He was surprised she hadn't slapped him across the face. Any human woman would have by now. He kept giving off mixed signals.

"I got caught up in the music, the mood…my behaviour was inappropriate." He made an attempt at an explanation, though it in no way excused his actions.

"I'd thought for a moment you were doing what you actually wanted," she replied coldly. "I see I was mistaken."

"Mistaken? No…I mean…yes...no…I mean…oh God I don't know what I mean anymore. I'm so confused." He sat down on the sofa and buried his face in his hands.

He sounded genuinely sorry. As for the confusion — well she didn't need to be convinced of that.

She sat down beside him and stroked his hair. "Talk to me," she whispered. "Tell me what you are feeling."

He looked up at her. "I feel like there's two people inside of me battling it out," he explained. "There's the me before the Expanse who feels so much but doesn't know what to do with all these feelings — guilt, depression, loneliness, anger, frustration, along with love and desire… And then there's the other guy — the tough as steel, emotionless, cruel, no-holds barred creep who cared for nothing except fulfilling a mission…whatever the cost."

She noted that he'd mentioned two positive feelings in the list of emotions — love and desire. Did they pertain to her? It was obvious he was in a lot of emotional pain and she was probably out of her depth to deal with this. He needed someone professional to talk about these things and work through the guilt that seemed to be preventing him from experiencing anything happy in his life.

"I don't think you can delineate your feelings so, Jonathan. This other persona you refer to as emotionless…I don't think he exists. I've never known you to be emotionless or cruel. As I told you in the cafeteria this morning, the fact that you feel remorse for your actions is a step in the right direction. The next one is starting to forgive yourself."

He got up and started to pace the room. "How can I, T'Pol? You think I can just tell myself — oh forget it, your planet's saved now, no need to worry about a bunch of aliens you stranded in the middle of nowhere."

"Jonathan, you left them with food and trellium, not helpless. Remember that."

"And it's gonna take them three years to get home, T'Pol. Three long years! How am I supposed to live with that?"

"Then what do you suggest? You can't undo what you did. You have to move forward."

"I can't." He leaned up against his window, staring out at the city. Everyone going about their daily lives — they were all safe now. They didn't have to worry about the threat of destruction anymore. He'd sold his soul for this to happen.

"Yes you can."

"How? I don't even know where to begin."

"The fact that you want to start is a beginning in itself. Why not make an appointment to see someone?"

"You mean a shrink?" He looked aghast at the suggestion.

"A psychologist is better qualified to deal with how you feel than I am, though I'm always willing to listen."

"You think I want to go see a mind-doctor so they can brain wash me into thinking what I did was okay as long as I saved Earth? I mean that's what the head honchos at Starfleet seem to think. Pat on the back for the guy who saved Earth, we'll just ignore the stuff you did in the interim."

"Jonathan, this is a vicious cycle. You keep beating yourself up over this. It has to stop. I care about you too much to watch you torture yourself like this."

Care. She'd said it again. She'd be better off she didn't feel that way. He hated burdening her so.

Maybe the Vulcans had been right — if Enterprise had never embarked on her mission, humans wouldn't have made so many enemies and maybe the first Xindi attack would never have occurred.

Moments ago he'd shut out the guilt and despair and luxuriated in the feeling of her lithe body against his, her lips responding to his. He wanted her…he wanted it all. But he didn't deserve it…he'd allowed himself these momentary lapses of pleasure but then his conscience started to bug him.

"I'm sorry, T'Pol. I don't think I can give you what you want."

"What do you mean?"

"You want a relationship with me…I can't give you that, I already told you that on the pier."

"You used the excuse of being captain."

Excuse? So she'd seen right through him — so much for using that ploy.

"It was wrong of me to kiss you…a momentary lapse of weakness but it won't happen again."

"It is in your momentary lapses of weakness that you seem to act on your true feelings. I think you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you…but something's holding you back."

Hmm…how intuitive she was, but still he couldn't afford to act on his feelings. It wasn't fair to her. She deserved better…she should be with someone who treated her right, respected her and didn't act like someone with a schizophrenic personality.

"Why would you want to get involved with an emotional, unbalanced, illogical human anyway T'Pol? There must be hundreds of logical, unemotional Vulcan men who'd vie for your hand."

Her Vulcan patience was wearing thin. She breathed in and out slowly, suppressing the tinge of anger that was building up inside her. She was about to answer him in a calm, collected manner when the doorbell rang.

He went to answer it.

"Captain Archer, I presume?" the delivery guy asked.

"Yes."

"These are for you," he said passing him a large bouquet of white lilies.

Jonathan took the flowers, placing them on the kitchen counter, and returned to the door. "Who are these from?"

"I believe there's a card attached to the flowers, Captain. Would you mind signing here to confirm receipt?" he asked passing Archer a computer padd with a pen attached.

Jonathan scribbled his signature on the electronic padd, and returned it to the young man, then gave him a tip. The young man thanked him and left.

T'Pol surveyed the flowers. They were exquisite — someone must have paid a lot of money for these.

Jonathan shut his front door, and checked the card the flowers came with. He had an inkling as to who they were from and the card confirmed his suspicions.

_Jon Darling!_

_Just got back today. Sorry to miss your hero's welcome, but I was on another assignment in Europe. I'm dying to see you — I'll call in the morning so we can arrange something. Much Love,_

_Rebecca._

Rebecca — she was the only woman he knew who ever sent him flowers — and she always went all out on some fancy expensive bouquet.

He'd actually wondered when she'd show up and had been surprised not to see her along with her fellow reporters at Starfleet HQ. He'd last seen her just before shipping out for the Expanse — it had been a dinner between friends. She'd wanted to wish him luck on the mission. He'd suspected she might have wanted to rekindle their relationship then, but she'd been no more than a good friend that night.

He guessed it was only natural that she wanted to see him now, so decided to not read into it any further. He took a vase out from one of the kitchen units, poured water into it, and placed the flowers inside.

"They'd look nice on the coffee table," T'Pol suggested, hoping he'd reveal who the sender was. She hypothesized that it was a woman, otherwise Jonathan would have spoken by now.

"Yeah…good idea," he agreed and did just so. "I suppose you're wondering who sent them."

"It's not my business if you don't wish to tell me."

"It's not a big deal, T'Pol. An old girlfriend sent them — her name's Rebecca."

He'd been about to explain that there was nothing between Rebecca and him anymore when he stopped himself. This was a cruel thing to do but if T'Pol believed there was something between him and his old flame she'd move on. The last thing he wanted to do to T'Pol was hurt her. No, this was protection — he was protecting her from himself.

"I see." So she'd been right, it had been a woman after all. And someone he'd been romantically involved with. "She wishes to see you?"

"Yes…she's gonna call in the morning."

Did Jonathan still have feelings for this woman? He'd never mentioned her before, but then he was rather secretive about his private life. She didn't know what to think. It appeared that he was willing to see her and he seemed pleased with the flowers. As far as she was aware sending flowers to a man was considered a romantic gesture. This Rebecca obviously had designs on the captain and wished to rekindle their relationship.

She remembered her ingredients on the kitchen counter that she'd been about to cook. Her appetite for Plomeek broth had long since disappeared. She felt exhausted and was struck with an overwhelming sense of numbness.

"I am going to go back to the hotel now," she informed Jonathan.

"What about your dinner?"

"I'm not hungry anymore."

Now he felt guilty. He'd really upset her. But in the long term this was for the best. Perhaps not for him…but at least for her. "I'll drive you."

"No, I rather you did not. I will walk."

"Haven't you walked enough today? And you'll be cold. You don't even have a jacket."

She hadn't thought of that, but it didn't matter. "I'll be fine."

"If you won't let me drive you, at least borrow one of my jackets."

"Very well."

He went off to his bedroom to get one, rummaging through his wardrobe to see if he had a smaller one that might not be so huge on her. To his surprise right at the back was a woman's jacket. He took it out and examined it. It was a petite black leather jacket that had belonged to Rebecca. She must have left it here several years ago and he'd forgotten about it.

He reappeared and showed her the jacket. "I had no idea I had this, but this should fit you snugly."

T'Pol took the jacket and slipped it on. It did fit well. "Who did this belong to?"

"I believe it's Rebecca's, she must have left it here a while back."

"Then I'll return it in the morning so you can give it to her."

"There's no rush. I doubt she even misses it."

"Goodnight, Jonathan. Thank you for your company today."

"Thanks for yours."

He opened the door for her, then walked her to the elevator. "I know things haven't turned out the way you wanted but it's probably for the best. We're gonna have a ship to run in two months time, and having personal feelings get in the way could have proven problematic."

"Jonathan, those personal feelings are there…I can't erase them. I thought yours were too, perhaps I was mistaken. However, I will conduct myself with the utmost of professionalism when we are back on duty. But your theory is flawed."

He didn't want to argue with her and the elevator had arrived. As the electric doors closed and her face disappeared he thought how lovely she looked in Rebecca's jacket. It was as if it had been made for her.

He strolled back to the apartment and closed the door. Silence greeted him…but it was of his own doing. He could have been here with T'Pol in his arms right now if he'd just let her. He sighed heavily and noticed that she'd left her ingredients for the Plomeek broth. Gathering them together, he put them in a plastic container and placed them in the fridge.

He seated himself on the sofa and noticed his beer from earlier. It was probably warm by now. He swigged the bottle back…yeah it was warm, but he wasn't gonna waste it. He drank it…all the while wondering what Rebecca truly wanted.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Redemption**

**Chapter 8**

Rebecca's note had stated that she would call in the morning. So when Jonathan went to answer his door at 10am the next morning he hadn't expected to see Rebecca standing on the other side.

"Jon, you're so thin! Don't they feed you on that starship of yours?" she asked as she gave him a bear hug.

"Hi Rebecca. I thought you were gonna call."

"I know," she replied as she walked in, "but I didn't want to take the risk of you saying you didn't want to meet up."

"I wouldn't have said that."

"Perhaps not…but you might not have wanted to see me today. And I have so much to tell you!"

"Oh."

"What's wrong? You seem out of sorts." She looked around the room and noticed her flowers. "Ah, I see you got the lillies — good."

"Yeah thanks, they're lovely. You want a drink or something?"

"No, I'm fine. Had breakfast just before I came over. Still adjusting to the time change, so I've been up before the crack of dawn. You know Europe's 9 hours ahead of us."

"Right."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Which one was that?"

"I asked you what was wrong. And why did you lose so much weight? You must be around 20lbs lighter than when I saw you last year."

"You look great, " he stated, hoping to divert her attention away from the question about his weight loss. Besides she really did look great, it wasn't one of those polite compliments. She must have retouched the blonde highlights in her hair; they looked new and very becoming. Her skin was glowing and her bright blue eyes glistened with health. She looked as beautiful as the first day he'd met her.

"Thanks, Jon."They made their way into the living room and sat down together.

"I tried to get back a few days earlier so I could make the welcome home ceremony but my damn editor really screwed things up for me. I was covering some political nonsense in Spain and then there was a problem with getting a shuttle flight in time to be back here. So it didn't work out in the end. Sorry. I'd have loved to see you being hailed as the planet's hero," she explained.

"Don't worry, you didn't miss much."

"What's with the sour expression?"

"I'm just saying not is all as it seems."

"Well that's a cryptic comment liable to get my reporter's juices going. Actually, I do have a slightly ulterior motive in seeing you — but I don't think you'll mind."

She was as bubbly and happy as ever. She hadn't changed at all. Her life was all about the story, whatever was the latest scoop — anything she could get her hands on and she never seemed to run out of energy.

"Let me guess, you want an interview with me?"

"Not just an interview…but an exclusive interview. I want to hear the real story…not what you've told anyone else."

"I haven't spoken to any other reporters and I'm not authorized to tell you anything either."

"Since when?"

"Apart from what's been broadcast on the news and printed in the papers, what went on in the Expanse is classified — Starfleet orders." He'd guessed Starfleet thought the public couldn't stomach the idea of their "hero" committing piracy to save their planet.

"Well my editor's gonna be so disappointed, he thought this was gonna be the biggest interview of the year."

"Sorry, no can do."

"Oh well, I'll live," she smiled. "But you can tell me right, I mean off the record?"

"I could hardly share any details with you before I left, what makes you think I can tell you anything now, Rebecca?"

"Oh I don't know…we've kept plenty of secrets for each other. Besides, it's me. You know you can trust me."

"I do trust you, but I can't break the rules. Besides, believe me it isn't something you want to know about."

"Jon, I'm a reporter. There isn't anything I don't want to know about."

"You're only saying that because you don't have details. Just trust me on this one. You're better off not knowing."

"Something bad happened out there didn't it? That's why you lost so much weight — from the stress."  
"I'm not answering any of your questions. You can hypothesize to your heart's content. My lips are sealed." Maybe he should attempt to put on a bit of a show — acting all miserable and moody would only encourage her to question him further and she'd try and needle something out of him. "Okay, I get the message loud and clear," she answered, giving up, but only for the time being. She continued, "But you can still take me up on my second offer."

"And what would that be?" he asked, pretending to sound intrigued.

"Well how do you like the idea of a two week all expense paid trip to the South Pacific? I bet you could do with a vacation."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch…unless you consider going with me a catch. And before you think this is my idea of a romantic tryst, we'd be staying in a two bedroom villa along a private beach in Fiji. You can rest, relax, unwind and there'd be no one to bother you…well except me," she smiled.

"Who's paying for this trip?"

"Oh my editor. It's our reward for the exclusive. But no need to tell my boss about Starfleet's rules of secrecy until we get back, right?"

"Rebecca…" He gave her a slight look of disapproval.

"Oh come on, I think we both deserve it. My schedule has been non-stop over the last year. I need to catch my breath. The sound of a tropical beach, a little snorkelling, reading a good novel, and sipping mimosas doesn't sound half bad to me. And of course having a good friend along for the ride would make things perfect. What'd ya say?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno."

"Jon, it's not like you to pass up a free vacation."

He stood up and walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink. He offered her one, but she refused. "Little early in the morning to be drinking, isn't it?" she asked.

She was right, and he was supposed to be putting on an act so she wouldn't catch on. Boy, he was doing a great job! If he carried on at this rate she'd be nagging him about getting help from a therapist with whatever he was having trouble with…just like T'Pol.

He'd already poured the drink and wasn't gonna waste it so swallowed in one gulp. "I'm off duty, it's not a big deal," he explained.

"Never seen you drink in the morning, even when you were off-duty."

"Rebecca, don't analyse — I know it's an inherent quality for you and it comes naturally as a reporter…but there's nothing to analyse, here, okay?" He put on his best fake smile.

"If you say so," she answered, but remained unconvinced. "Anyway, you coming to Fiji then? I could cook my famous linguini…maybe even get you to put on a few pounds."

Perhaps he should go — he had mixed feelings about it, but a change of scenery might do him some good, and after all he'd be following Forrest's orders. "Can I think about it?" he asked.

"The shuttle flight to Fiji leaves at 1200 hours tomorrow. The tickets are non-refundable. What's holding you back?"

"I'm not as impulsive as you."

"Carpe diem."

Hmm…seize the day and what not. She had a point. It wasn't as if he had any other plans, and sulking around his apartment was getting tiresome.

"Okay, you've made your point. I'll go."

"Great!" She got up off the couch and hugged him excitedly. "We'll have a fantastic time! You won't regret it, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Anyway I better be on my way…I have loads of packing to do."

The door buzzed just as Rebecca was about to open it. "Expecting anyone?"

"No," he replied and went to answer. Standing on the other side of his threshold was T'Pol.

"I came to return the jacket," she explained.

He invited her in. "I didn't realize you had guests." She noticed an attractive tall blonde lady standing in the living room. Had to be Rebecca.

"It's okay, and I told you last night there was no rush."

The blonde lady approached them. "I'm Rebecca," she said outstretching her hand to T'Pol. T'Pol awkwardly shook her hand, not wishing to be rude.

"This is T'Pol, Enterprise's first officer," Jonathan explained to Rebecca. T'Pol noted how he'd called her the ship's first officer, not _his_ first officer as he normally did.

"I've heard such wonderful things about you…I bet Jon would have never made it back to Earth without your skills." Rebecca was doing her best to be friendly, but sensed animosity in the air: Jon and the Vulcan seemed uncomfortable in each other's presence.

"I'm returning this jacket which I believe is yours," T'Pol told Rebecca, and handed her the black jacket.

"Oh my gosh, this old thing? Jon, I must have left this here years ago."

"Yup. I only came across it last night," Jonathan replied.

"Well I have to dash. It was nice meeting you, T'Pol."

"Likewise," returned T'Pol.

"Jon, I'll call you this evening with all the details and arrange to meet up at the shuttleport tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah that will be fine."

Rebecca left leaving the captain and Vulcan on their own. Jonathan could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to piece together what was going on from the snippets of information she'd gathered.

"I'm flying to Fiji tomorrow." Best to get to the point and come out with it he thought.

"I gathered you were travelling somewhere. How long will you be gone?"

"Two weeks."

"I see. I wish you and Rebecca a pleasant trip."

"Thanks. What are you gonna do, T'Pol?"

"No need to concern yourself, Captain."

She was back to using his formal title. "I'm asking as a friend."

"And I'm replying as one."

"Okay, don't tell me then. By the way you left your ingredients here last night."

"Yes, I forgot them."

Jonathan had a sudden brainwave. "T'Pol, would you do me a favour?" He probably shouldn't be asking her any favours after he'd been such a cad with her, but this was really more to her advantage. If she agreed it would ease his conscience a little knowing she had somewhere a little more spacious than her hotel room to stay at, and of course she could cook as much Vulcan food as she wanted in his kitchen.

"This favour being?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I need someone to look after Porthos while I'm gone. You said that you'd come to like him more when you took care of him in the Expanse. He isn't too much trouble, just take him out for a walk once a day and feed him. And I'd like you stay here and make yourself at home.""I told my mother I'd be on Vulcan within 10 days…who would look after Porthos when I left?"

"Could you postpone the trip by a few days? I know it's asking a lot but you'd really be helping me out."

"Very well, I agree." She didn't think her mother would mind a further delay of a few days, and it would be nice to have accommodations larger than her hotel room. Plus the use of the kitchen would be convenient.

"I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. If that's okay with you, you could move in then."

"Yes, that's agreeable."

"Are you alright, T'Pol?" She seemed more stoic than usual.

"I'm fine. If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way."

"Okay. And thanks again for agreeing to do this."

She left and he went to make a late breakfast.

* * *

Jonathan spent most of the day getting ready for his trip to Fuji. This time he couldn't avoid going to the store — there were purchases to be made and if people were gonna stop him for autographs etc well he'd just have to politely tell them he was busy.

He went to a nearby mall buying all the vacation essentials such as sunscreen, toiletries, insect repellent and so forth. He then thought a few new outfits wouldn't hurt — he hadn't been on vacation since Enterprise's shore leave on Risa. He bought two new pairs of pants and a couple casual tops. Nothing outlandish though, mostly conservative. He wasn't like Trip, and he felt too old to be wearing loud Hawaiian shirts.

Since he'd braved the mall he decided he might as well do a few groceries and bought himself some supplies for dinner tonight. When he noticed the melons on special he thought of T'Pol and placed several in his shopping trolley. He selected an assortment of other fruit he thought she'd enjoy which included kiwi, bananas, apricots, peaches, apples and grapes.

He was grateful she'd be staying with Porthos. Not being able to read her reaction earlier, he hoped she was okay. He shrugged his shoulders — of course she'd be okay. She was a strong unemotional Vulcan.

When he arrived home he unpacked his groceries and made some dinner. Then he got busy packing. Rebecca called around 9pm to make sure everything was on schedule. She offered to pick him up around 9:30am and they could travel to the shuttleport together. He thanked her and agreed that it was a good idea.

He needed to let T'Pol know that he'd be leaving at that time, he hadn't told her what time to come around. He didn't have the number to her hotel so checked his computer screen to see if the information was in the local San Francisco Hotel Database. Within a few minutes he located it and called them, asking to be transferred to T'Pol's room.

He waited while the operator had him on hold, trying to connect him. Less than a minute later T'Pol's face appeared on screen.

"T'Pol."

"Captain."

"I wanted to let you know that I'll be leaving around 9:30am tomorrow, so think you could drop by half an hour before then so I can give you the keys and so forth?"

"Yes, that's not a problem." Her tone was dry.

He remained on the line but didn't say anything.

"Was there something else?" she asked.

"Er…no…that's all. Well apart from me being grateful for you looking after Porthos."

There was no response to this comment. "Goodnight T'Pol." She bid him goodnight and he turned off the viewscreen, sitting down at his desk.

In having rejected her, had he destroyed any hope of them being friends again? He hoped on his return from Fiji things might be different, that she'd have forgiven him. But he doubted he'd be seeing much of her upon his return — she said she was going to Vulcan, and she'd probably stay there until Enterprise was put back into service.

Well he'd made his bed…now he had to lay in it so to speak. How different it could have been if T'Pol had been the one accompanying him to Fiji. He closed his eyes and imagined her standing alone on a white sandy beach at the edge of the shore in an off-the-shoulder flowing white beach dress with the wind kicking up her skirt and the tide lapping at her bare feet. He envisioned himself approaching her, taking her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers and then caressing her olive neck and bronze naked shoulders.

The vision made him catch his breath.

He felt his heart ache at the thought of her. He loved her and he was missing her. He'd missed her the entire time he'd been in the Expanse…even though her quarters were only a few doors away from his. Assured that her feelings lay with his chief engineer he'd kept himself to himself, respecting their privacy and wishing them happiness, despite the pain their supposed relationship was causing him.

And now all that had pain had been for nothing! She hadn't even been with Trip. He'd been so gullible. In hindsight he'd wished he'd asked Trip if the rumours had been true but hadn't wanted to put the commander on the spot. Asking T'Pol or just dropping hints had been an option too, but he hadn't pursued either.

Well what was the point of mulling over all this now? He couldn't cry over spilt milk. What was done was done. But a voice inside his head kept telling him what a fool he was to reject the only woman he loved, the only one he'd really ever loved since Margaret.

Another voice replied that he'd done the right thing — T'Pol might be hurt now but she'd get over it. And being Vulcan he thought she could probably meditate the feelings away and just get on with life. T'Pol didn't need to be burdened with his mixed up emotional state, fluctuating moods and unstable psyche.

He loved her but maybe that wasn't enough. He was so wrapped up in his guilt and anger over the events in the Expanse he felt as if there wasn't enough of him to actually give to T'Pol. She deserved more. She deserved his undivided attention, not a man who was obsessed with the past and wallowing in guilt.

So that was how he justified his actions to himself. He didn't like it…but lately he hadn't been keen on many of his decisions.

As for Fiji and Rebecca, well it could be a good opportunity to rest up and relax. Hopefully Rebecca would keep him occupied with excursions, tours, and talking about her job which she loved to do. She had many a tale to tell from her numerous adventures circling the globe on her different assignments. Hopefully he wouldn't have to think too much.

He'd met her not long after A.G. and he had been suspended for taking out the NX-Beta and breaking the warp 2 barrier. She'd heard about their suspensions and smelled a story in the works. She'd tracked him down to his apartment and set up an appointment for an interview. He'd told it from his vantage point, not painting the Vulcans in a very flattering light, and getting a chance to tell the world more about his father and his father's dream.

The article had been a success and had landed Rebecca a promotion. To thank him she'd invited him for dinner. They'd discovered that they both enjoyed each other's company and agreed to meet up again when she was next in town. Soon they'd begun dating and it lasted several years.

While it was a serious relationship neither one ever spoke of marriage or children, almost as if it was taboo. It could have been because of their schedules — she was regularly out of town on assignment, and he would often stay up till the early hours of the morning working on the NX-Project.

So at the time, the relationship had suited both of them to a T. But there had come a point where Rebecca had wanted more, but she'd acknowledged that Jonathan just wasn't the man who could give it to her. They'd gone out to dinner once and she'd explained most of this to him. She doubted he'd ever marry or settle down. In her eyes, he'd always be married to Starfleet. He'd smiled sadly at her comment, but didn't attempt to deny it.

She'd told him she was leaving for Australia, she'd accepted a long term assignment in Sydney and she was going to be gone for at least six months. After that she'd told him she'd continue roving the globe. This dinner had been a kind of goodbye. Her parting words had been that she hoped they could remain friends.

That much had happened. She'd often fly into San Francisco for some important event in his life, or sometimes just to say hi. Her work also brought her back to the city every couple months so it wasn't as if they ever lost touch. She was there when he'd officially been promoted to Captain and had attended the ceremony when he received the four bars on his uniform.

She'd watched from the audience balcony as Forrest had given Enterprise her send-off speech, and she'd been one of his first visitors when he'd returned to Earth after the Xindi attack. She was a good friend and he appreciated that.

However, he was curious as to why she hadn't met someone else yet and married. She was an attractive woman…why was she still single?

Noticing the time, he desisted from mulling over stuff and got up to finish his packing.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Redemption **

**Chapter 9**

T'Pol walked down the stairs with her suitcases and checked out of the hotel. The clerk at the desk said he'd get her a taxi.

The driver dropped her outside Jonathan's apartment building and she made her way inside and up to his abode. She was a little early — it was only 8:45am, but she assumed he'd be up.

She waited about a minute and was about to press the buzzer again when she heard the door being opened.

He wasn't dressed. He had a towel hanging over his bare shoulder with another towel wrapped around his waist. Shaving cream was all over his face.

"Running late?" she enquired, raising an eyebrow at his appearance.

"Mmm…kinda, but your 15 minutes early."

She walked in and he closed the door behind her. "I thought Rebecca was picking you up in 45 minutes."

"Oh I'll be ready by then," he answered.

"I see."

"Why don't you sit down, I'll just finish shaving and be with you in a minute."

"Of course," she acquiesced.

Five minutes later he reappeared. He gave her the electronic door key and explained a few things about the apartment, such as the plants that needed watering, the heating etc. He showed her where he kept all of Porthos' stuff — his food, leash and a few toys.

"I know this probably sounds a bit crazy, but would you mind talking to him now and then? He's used to the sound of someone's voice, he might miss it if—"

"Yes Jonathan, I'll talk to him, feed him and walk him — you need not be concerned."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," he smiled, closing the door to the cabinet where he kept Porthos' stuff in the kitchen.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked, pulling up a stool at the kitchen table.

"Not too bad," he responded sitting across from her. "Did you want some mint tea?" he asked, knowing it was her favourite beverage.

"No thank you," she replied. "So, no more confusing thoughts today?"

"T'Pol, why don't we just let that lie, okay?" He hoped she didn't want to pick a fight.

"You were upset yesterday and racked with guilt. I find it hard to believe that the prospect of a trip to Fiji would suddenly erase all that."

"I didn't say it had," he said, sounding a little agitated. "Maybe Forrest is right, a vacation might do me some good — clear my head."

She didn't answer but her expression indicated she thought he was fooling himself.

"You disagree with Admiral Forrest's suggestion?" Once he'd asked the question he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Sometimes he spoke before he thought.

"His orders were to go to Fiji with Rebecca?"

He rolled his eyes. "T'Pol, you know they weren't — do you have to be so literal?"

Her tone was bitter — she was obviously still hurt. And why wouldn't she be? He imagined how he'd feel if she'd been about to leave for two weeks with Trip on some tropical island. He'd be consumed with jealousy. Part of him wished he could just tell her the damn truth — he loved her and wanted to be with her. But it wasn't fair — she deserved better and if she really cared about him like she claimed then if he confessed his true feelings she'd probably tell him they could work this all out together. He wouldn't let her make that sacrifice. "I know the Admiral relieved you of duty and instructed you to clear your head. In a round about way I suppose that could be interpreted as going on vacation. But if you go and try to sweep all your feelings under a proverbial rug, I don't believe your time away will serve any purpose at all."

That's exactly what he had planned to do — he wanted a distraction and he hoped Rebecca would keep him busy enough so he wouldn't have to think about what went on in the Expanse…and the Illyrians. But he knew she was right — maybe he should go back to his bedroom, unpack his bags and make an appointment to see the local shrink at Starfleet Medical. No…he wasn't ready for that yet. He wanted to sit on a beach and relax in the sun, or swim in the warm Pacific waters, or visit all the local sights. Distraction — yes, that's all he could deal with right now. The rest…well that would be waiting for him when he returned. Once he was rested he might be able to deal with all of it better.

"I'll get a tan," he answered lightly.

"Excuse me?"

"You said my time away would serve no purpose at all and I said I'll get a tan."

"I do not understand how you can view your problems in such a comical fashion."

"I don't, T'Pol." He massaged his temples — he was developing a headache. "I was just trying to stir the conversation away from its serious path."

"The subject matter is serious. I believe you are in denial and you shouldn't ignore the problem. It's not going to evaporate." This was delivered in a very matter-of-fact manner; she sounded like a psychologist herself.

"Okay, I know," he sighed. "Can we please change the subject?"

Ignoring his request she continued. He continued to massage his temples, he probably had a headache. But she wasn't going to let go of this as easily as he wanted her to. If he didn't want her in his personal life fair enough, but she had no qualms in speaking her mind.

"I stand by my suggestion that you seek professional help. Failing that, you should try and open up to someone and share your feelings."

"I don't think there's much to be said."

"I think there's a lot to be said, Captain—"

"T'Pol, just call me Jonathan. I don't know if you're calling me captain cause you're mad or if you think you don't have a right to call me by my first name…but as you've reminded me I'm off-duty."

"As you wish…Jonathan." He'd interrupted her train of thought. Why did it matter to him what she called him? "I didn't think it made that much of a difference. Commander Tucker has been your friend for many years and continues to call you by your formal title."

He frowned. Did she have to question this? Truth be told he loved the sound of his name on her lips. It made their relationship more personal — though that in itself was contradictory, he'd done everything he could to make their relationship less personal.

"You are incorrect in your assumption — I am not mad," she said after almost 30 seconds of silence.

"Oh…okay, well that's good. Though I wouldn't blame you if you were. I'd probably be mad at me if I was you."

"Then it is fortunate I am not human." Her tone was slightly sarcastic.

"Right."

She recalled her train of thought and continued. "Jonathan, you barely scratched the surface when you mentioned your guilt yesterday. You kept a lot of things locked inside while you were in the Expanse. Why do you fear speaking about them?"

"T'Pol…I've asked you twice now to drop this…please."

She didn't want to, but it was apparent if she pushed any harder he'd probably get annoyed and angry. "As you wish…maybe you'll feel more comfortable speaking with Rebecca. If she knows you, I'm sure she's observed that you've changed."

"She hasn't said anything…apart from remarking on my loss of weight."

"Well if you choose to open up to her you have two weeks to do so."

"Yeah…maybe." He didn't want to admit that he had no intention of talking to Rebecca or anyone else for that matter, but if he told T'Pol that she'd only continue to badger him about opening up and dealing with his guilt.

"If there's nothing else, I'll be leaving," she announced, glancing at the clock. She didn't particularly want to bump into Rebecca.

"Feel free to use my bed, it's much more comfy that the sofa," he offered, walking her to the door. "The sheets are fresh, I changed them this morning and you'd be keeping Porthos company."

"I wouldn't want to impose." She wasn't sure how she felt about sleeping in his bed.

"It's not an imposition, I'd like you to be as comfortable as possible. And please make yourself at home."

"Thank you," she replied, then she recalled what he'd said about Porthos. "Does Porthos sleep with you on the bed?"

"Rarely, he has his own bed in the corner of my room, just like on Enterprise."

"Good."

"Oh and help yourself to any food in the fridge and around the kitchen. I bought an assortment of melons last night at the store, and some other fruits — I know you like them for breakfast."

"Thank you, that was thoughtful of you," she replied.

"No problem."

"I'll be going then."

"T'Pol, you don't have to leave on account of me. I mean I'll be out of here in about 20 minutes, why not stay?"

She didn't wish to see Rebecca. She felt no resentment towards the woman, she just didn't wish to be physically reminded of him going away with her. "I think it best if I leave," she told him.

Jonathan nodded in understanding and felt a pang of guilt at the misconception T'Pol was probably under. He considered telling her the truth — that Rebecca and him were only friends, but decided against it. It might just confuse T'Pol further, or give her false hope.

"I hope you have a pleasant vacation."

"Thanks, T'Pol."

She left his building and stared out onto the busy street, pondering how to kill the next half hour or so. She noticed a white sports car pull up just outside the entrance. The driver wore sunglasses, and had long blonde hair. It was Rebecca.

T'Pol started to walk in the opposite direction, hoping the woman hadn't seen her.

"T'Pol, is that you?" she heard Rebecca call. She turned around and saw the blonde woman facing her.

"Ah, I thought it was you. Did you come to see Jonathan off?" she asked.

"I'll be taking care of Porthos and the apartment while he's gone. I came by to pick up the keys."

"Oh, I didn't realize. I'd assumed Jonathan would take the dog with him. I even called ahead to the shuttle company to inform them. Hmm…guess it's a case of miscommunication," she laughed.

Rebecca had a point. It wasn't like Jonathan to leave his quadruped behind — he'd taken him to Risa, and then of course there had been the whole incident with the Kreetassens two years ago. Why was he leaving him behind now? T'Pol was puzzled.

"I hope you have a pleasant trip," T'Pol offered.

"Thanks. I'm dying for a vacation and I think Jonathan needs the rest." Rebecca took T'Pol aside so they could speak privately for a moment without the roar of traffic interrupting them. "I don't mean to pry, but is Jonathan ill? He's so thin."

"You didn't ask him?"

"Sure did. Several times yesterday. In fact he didn't answer any of my questions, but just avoided them."

Hmm…so he was less open with Rebecca, someone who'd known him for years, than he'd been with her.

"The captain was under a great deal of stress during the mission. That's all I can say. As far as I am aware he is not suffering from a physical illness. Apart from a slight loss of weight, he appears healthy to me," T'Pol explained.

"Okay, thanks for the reassurance," Rebecca replied. "I'd assumed it was stress related. Well I better get going. Nice seeing you again."

Rebecca entered the building while T'Pol decided to walk around the block. They should be gone within thirty minutes and she could return then.

* * *

T'Pol entered the apartment, setting the key down on the counter. She hadn't eaten any breakfast so decided to finally make her plomeek broth. She opened the fridge and found Jonathan had put everything she'd purchased into a plastic container.

She took it out and placed it on the counter top. Pouring some water into the kettle, she set that to boil. She heard the patter of feet and looked down to find Porthos had come to keep her company. She recalled what Jonathan had said — to talk to the dog.

He looked up at her and cocked his head.

"Hello Porthos." He barked in response.

She didn't want to stroke him as she was just about to prepare food, but decided to anyway. She patted him gently on the head. But the dog seemed to want something else. Jonathan had feed him this morning and informed her he was feed twice a day. Maybe Porthos just wanted to be around her. She washed her hands in the sink and went on to prepare her ingredients. She poured the boiling water into a pan on the stove and began to mix in what she'd bought at the health store.

She heard a gentle whimper as she was stirring her concoction. The dog couldn't miss Jonathan already — he'd been gone less than an hour.

"I'll take you for a walk later, Porthos. I'm going to have some breakfast now."

She felt a little awkward talking to the quadruped knowing full well it didn't understand a word, but Jonathan had convinced her that it soothed the animal and he was accustomed to it.

Porthos began to paw her leg. Then it dawned on her. He probably wanted some cheese. She was against the whole idea of giving an animal something that didn't agree with them and which could make them sick, but Jonathan had said it was okay to indulge him two or three times a week.

Well the dog had just been left behind while his owner went off to enjoy the delights of Fiji, why not give him a bit of cheese? She opened the fridge door, scanning for some cheese. She quickly found some, and cut a few slices. Porthos was starting to get excited, and was running circles around her feet.

"I suppose this was what you wanted." Porthos barked, his tail wagging madly in anticipation of the treat. She placed the slices in his food bowl, and went back to preparing her soup.

"Any ideas as to why your master left you behind?" she asked the dog, still feeling foolish to be talking to an animal that didn't understand her. Porthos ignored her — he was too busy with the cheese.

Knowing how attached the captain was to his pet — she still recalled his threat of watering the Kreetassens' Alvera trees if anything happened to the dog, it was odd that he would leave him behind. Porthos would have probably enjoyed roaming around the beach and splashing in the ocean. She was surprised at herself for not having thought of this earlier.

A thought crept into her head, had this been a way of getting her to stay in the apartment? If he'd taken the dog and just asked her to stay, he'd probably have known she would have refused, not feeling comfortable with the suggestion. It seemed a plausible theory. He felt guilty about the way he'd acted and it was a way of making it up to her in a roundabout fashion. He may have thought she was uncomfortable at the hotel and he knew she needed a kitchen to be able to prepare Vulcan dishes.

Twenty minutes later her plomeek broth was simmering and looked about ready. She tasted a little and was impressed with her work. It was as good as what Chef made on Enterprise, if not a little better. She found herself a bowl and filled it with the broth. She'd made enough for several portions, so poured the remainder into a large plastic container, sealed it shut and deposited it into the refrigerator.

She sat down at the kitchen table and ate her soup. She glanced in the direction of Porthos' bowl to see that the dog had already departed having wolfed down his cheese. He'd probably gone for a nap.

The apartment was very quiet. She remembered the jazz music Jonathan had played yesterday. Perhaps she could find the CD and play it again. She walked over to his CD collection and was pleased to find he'd left it on top of the CD player. Opening the case she deposited the disc into the player and pressed play.

She returned to her seat to finish her soup.

The apartment was filled with the intoxicating music — the sound travelled through her body. She closed her eyes, imagining once again her favourite haunt in Sausalito.

_She saw herself sitting unnoticed in the corner of the bar. Then a tall man in a tuxedo approached her; he had dark blonde hair and beautiful green eyes, and in a sultry voice asked her if she'd like to dance. As she got up to accept she noticed her clothes had changed and she was now wearing a long black evening gown._

_He led her to the dance floor and then wrapped his arms around her, as they moved in unison to the music. _

_"Come here often?" he whispered into her ear._

_"No."_

_"What's your name, beautiful?"_

_"T'Pol."_

_He smiled at her and as she looked into his eyes she realized she was dancing with Jonathan. _

_"I thought you were in Fiji."_

_"What would I be doing there without you?"_

_The scene seemed to fade out and suddenly she found herself on a moonlit beach. Jonathan's arm was draped around her waist and she was leaning into him. "Didn't I tell you I wouldn't come to Fiji without you?"_

_"Mmm." She could hear the waves crashing against the shore and felt a gentle tropical breeze rush through her hair._

_"I love you, T'Pol." _

_And then he was kissing her, with the moon and the stars as the only witnesses. _

A loud bleep filtered above the noise of the music. T'Pol opened her eyes and shook her head. The bleeping continued and she noticed it was coming from Jonathan's desk. She walked over to it and tapped the viewscreen on the computer. Trip's surprised face greeted her.

"Er…Hi T'Pol, is the captain there?"

"No, he isn't. Hold on please." She walked over to the CD player and turned the music off so she could hear Tucker properly.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Trip asked.

"In approximately two weeks."

"Two weeks? Where'd he go?"

"He left for Fiji this morning."

"On his own?"

"No, a lady called Rebecca accompanied him."

"Rebecca? Wow, that brings back memories. So what you doing there?"

"I'm taking care of Porthos and the apartment in the captain's absence. You know this Rebecca?"

"Sure…she and the captain were quite an item a couple years back. I wonder if…" he stopped.

"What do you wonder?" T'Pol's curiosity was piqued and she was interested in Tucker's knowledge of Rebecca.

"Oh just thinking aloud. I'd always been of the opinion that she never got over the captain…all this talk of let's be friends and what not…well I didn't buy it, even if Archer did at the time."

"I assumed that was her intent myself — to rekindle their relationship."

"Hmm…well if she makes him happy. Have to say I'm surprised though."

"Why?"

"Well from what I know they broke it off because they were incompatible, why try now?"

"I do not know. You know this Rebecca a lot better than me."

"Well she's one heck of a determined woman…so if she's set her sights on him…I dunno. Guess we'll find out soon enough, yeah?"

"I suppose," T'Pol answered.

"You okay?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well I know ya Vulcan and all, but if you ask me I'd say you were upset the captain went off with Rebecca."

"I'm fine, Trip."

"Did you guys talk at all? I know you said at breakfast the other day that he seemed troubled."

"I attempted to talk to him about certain things. The results were less than successful."

"Yeah…well you know the cap'n, he likes to do things in his own time, and he's ultra private. I'm sure he'll be okay."

She wondered if Trip had any idea how deeply affected the captain was by his actions in the Expanse. Perhaps he'd been too consumed with his own grief over Lizzie's death. Or maybe Archer put on such a good show even Trip was fooled. She didn't want to expand on what she'd learnt, especially the part about Jonathan's guilt over the Illyrians so answered that she hoped Trip was right and that the captain would be okay.

"What were you calling about? If it's urgent I can get a message to him," she said.

"Actually I was taking your advice and just checking up on him. After what you said the other day it got me thinking. But since he isn't around…well guess I'll have to try when he gets back. That'll probably be for the best anyway, he'll be in a more relaxed mood by then."

"Probably," T'Pol replied. "How are the Cayman Islands?"

"Oh just dandy! Having a great time. Going diving this afternoon. Anyway, gotta run. See ya."

"Goodbye."

She turned off the viewscreen and walked back across the room to the table, picking up her now empty bowl. She placed it in the dishwasher, and made herself a mug of fruit tea. Wanting to try something new, she selected Orange Spice, curious as to why it was Jonathan's favourite.

She put the music back on and sat down on the sofa with her tea, recalling her daydream. This was a new experience for her, but then she didn't listen to music often. She'd had no idea it could have such a profound effect on her.

Was the daydream a product of wishful thinking? Wouldn't she want to be the one in Fiji with him right now? Yes she did, but it didn't have to be Fiji, anywhere would suffice as long as she was with him.

_I wonder if this is what humans call love. _She'd never told Jonathan she loved him because using the term would have been inaccurate — one can't say they love someone unless they fully understand what that entails. Now as she reflected on her feelings she acknowledged that she had fallen prey to this human emotion.

Despite his irritability, his anger and his fluctuating moods she still cared about him. She knew she was drawn to him like no other, and was deeply concerned for his well-being. And when she heard how tortured he was, how the guilt was eating away at him she wished to comfort and soothe him. If only he hadn't pulled away at her every attempt…

She'd used the word "care" — assuming it would adequately describe how she felt. But he'd seemed to shrug it off several times. Friends cared; the word love, in the context she felt it, was reserved for a mate.

Thinking it over, would it have made a difference if she'd said she loved him? Would his reaction have been the same? She had no answers to her own questions.

Sipping her tea she found Orange Spice to be pleasing — it had a tangy flavour. Maybe that's why Jonathan liked it. Glancing at the clock on the wall she noted it was almost midday. Jonathan and Rebecca had boarded their flight and were about to depart. Was Jonathan holding her hand? Was he laughing? Did she make him smile? Was he happy?

If he was happy it was only temporary. She felt certain that his problems couldn't just be cured by a vacation. He needed to come to terms with his guilt and forgive himself.

On that thought she decided to contact Admiral Forrest. He might be able to help her in regard to something.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Redemption**

**Chapter 10**

Jonathan jumped out of the open top jeep and carried their luggage into the villa.

It was a gorgeous tropical day — the sun was shining and there was a pleasant breeze. He guessed the temperature was in the balmy 70s. They'd taken the coast road on their journey to the villa and the ocean had looked very inviting, he fancied a dip later on.The shuttle flight from San Francisco had taken just over an hour, with the transfer to the villa less than 20 minutes from the shuttle port in Suva. They were staying on the island of Vitu Levu, the largest of the Fijian Isles.

He placed Rebecca's bags in the larger bedroom. As her editor was paying for the trip and the whole thing was her idea he thought it appropriate that she have the larger room. Across the hall was the second bedroom, he entered and put his one bag on top of the bed. This room looked only slightly smaller than the master bedroom, and it appeared to have all the necessary amenities.

Each room had their own en-suite bathroom with a tub and a shower. The bed was a large double four poster with mosquito netting hanging from it. There was a chest of draws, and a wardrobe along with a bedside cabinet with a lamp and clock on top.  
All in all Jonathan was satisfied with his accommodations.

"Come on out to the balcony."

He heard Rebecca's voice calling him, and went to investigate. He walked through the living room to join her.

"Isn't it beautiful here, Jon?"

"Yeah."

"It must make you feel proud when you see places of beauty like this to know your mission was a success."

He didn't answer, but gazed out onto the ocean. His eyes had grown steely, his jaw was clenched and every muscle in his body had tensed. Had she said something wrong?

"Jon?"

"What?" he snapped.

"You seemed to have tensed up."

"I'm fine."

"I can imagine the mission was hard on you and your crew, but I and the rest of Earth are grateful for what you did."

"So I hear," he answered sarcastically.

"Jon, what the hell is wrong with you? There's no need to be rude," she said in a slightly raised tone. "I make one little comment about your mission and you transform from Jekyll to Hyde."

"I'm sorry," he sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I guess I'm touchy when people mention our mission to the Expanse." Her comment had angered him, but she didn't deserve his sarcasm. How was she supposed to know the hell he and his crew had had to endure? According to Starfleet protocol he couldn't even tell her.

"You don't say," she answered with sarcasm, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

"Look Rebecca, I don't mean to be rude. I mean I don't go out of my way to upset the people around me, it's just…"

"Yes?"

"Well…you wouldn't say such things if you'd been the one out there."

"Okay, so I'm in the dark about whatever went out on out there. However, since I am in the dark, I think a little leeway on comments like you feeling proud of your successful mission are in order."

She was right. He had no right to snap at her like that. "Yeah…you have a point. My fuse is so short these days."

"Hmm…I won't argue about that. If you wanna talk—"

"No." He cut her off before she could make the offer.

"They say getting it off her your chest can help."

"I already said no, Rebecca," he answered with a touch of impatience. "Besides, I told you in San Francisco most of the mission details are classified. Even if I wanted to talk about it, I'm not permitted."

"You wouldn't have to tell me specifics…"

"Let's just drop it, okay?"

She nodded. He was so tightly wound. She'd never seen him like this before. She remembered the days of the NX-Project and his hatred of the Vulcans, but even then he'd been approachable and less snappish. Whatever had happened out there in the Expanse must have affected him very badly. Her brain was conjuring up all kinds of scenarios wondering what it was that plagued him.

"Thanks. One of the reasons I came out here was so I wouldn't have to talk or think about the Expanse or the Xindi."

He turned his attention back to the beautiful view Rebecca had referred to. It was certainly picturesque, what people would call the perfect vacation spot. The beach was deserted; he certainly wouldn't have to be concerned about being asked for autographs.

There was an endless expanse of white sand, complimented by emerald green water and white foamy waves as they crashed against the shore. Their villa was nestled amongst a forest of tall palm trees, providing the house with needed shade from the sun's rays. There was a short boardwalk from the balcony leading down to a few steps and then you were directly on the beach.

"You must be hungry," Rebecca noted. "Fancy some lunch?"

"What's on the menu?" They'd had a light breakfast on their flight over, but he did feel a little peckish.

"Smoked salmon with melon slices to start and then chicken Caesar salad with new potatoes."

"Hmm…sounds appetizing."

"Thought you'd like the sound of it."

"And you're just gonna whip this all up?"

"Sure. Won't take long." She left in the direction of the kitchen.

"Rebecca," he said walking in after her, "I thought you came here to rest, not work."

"Cooking isn't work, " she replied, smiling over her shoulder.

"Well I'll take you out to dinner tonight then. I don't want you slaving in the kitchen on my account."

"Deal. Now why don't you go and explore the beach and come back in half an hour?"

He nodded in accord and went to his room to change into something more beach-like — his travel attire had consisted of a shirt and a smart pair of pants. Picking out a pair of shorts and a sleeveless top he put them on, grabbed his sunglasses and returned to the balcony.

Following the boardwalk down to the steps, he slipped off his shoes and walked barefoot through the white sand. Porthos would have loved it here and Jonathan felt a tinge of regret at not bringing his beagle with him. His thoughts turned to T'Pol and he remembered his vision of her in the flowing white dress. Yes, she'd look perfect here amongst the palm trees and miles of deserted beach.

Rebecca was a great friend and it had been kind of her to invite him and arrange for all of this, but she wasn't T'Pol. Oh why was he even thinking like this? He was such an idiot. He'd told T'Pol no enough times, and he'd told himself the same. There could never be anything between him and his first officer and he just had to accept that and move on.

Dipping his foot in the ocean he noted the water was tepid, and looked forward to an afternoon swim. The current didn't seem too strong from visual observation but of course he wouldn't really be able to tell until he swam out. He'd go for a dip after lunch.

He strolled along the shoreline letting the waves lap at his feet. It was certainly peaceful here, but he hoped he didn't have too many quiet moments as that usually ended up in him ruminating. His purpose in coming was not to think, but to keep occupied.

Thirty minutes later he returned to the house and found Rebecca laying the table out on the deck. He enjoyed eating al fresco, especially after months of consuming meals in the grey surroundings of the Captain's Mess.

He sat down at the table. "This looks great, thanks." She went back into the house for a moment and soon returned with a glass pitcher.

"Passion fruit iced tea — right?"

"You remembered," he smiled.

"I like to think I have a good memory. You need one of those to be a journalist."

"You can pride yourself on it, Rebecca." He poured them both a glass.

With their starter finished she went back in for their Caesar salad. She gave Jonathan a generous portion, along with several potatoes and a bread roll. Her plan was to get him to eat as many carbohydrates as possible so he wouldn't look so skeletal.

"Glad to see you have a hearty appetite," she noted as she watched him tucking in.

"Must be the sea air."

"Mmm."

"And of course your cooking," he added.

"Thank you."

"So tell me what you've been up to while I've been away. You must have had many adventures."

She proceeded to tell him about the various places she'd visited over the last year, the people she'd met, stories she'd written and so forth. She could have mentioned how she'd encountered fear among people over the Xindi attack, but airing on the side of caution, omitted that tidbit.

"You get nominated for any awards this year?" he asked, knowing that she'd won things in the past.

"Not yet, but the nominations for the major journalistic awards don't get announced for another month or so. I was hoping to have entered my exclusive interview with you."

"Sorry, no can do."

"It's okay, I'll survive the disappointment," she smiled.

He finished up his salad, and collected the dirty plates carrying them into the kitchen. "That was delicious," he told her as he returned to the table. He poured himself another glass of iced tea.

An hour slipped past as they chatted, mostly about Rebecca's exploits over the last year. She in turn asked Jonathan a few questions, but kept her queries in regard to the Expanse to a minimum.

"What made you decide to leave Porthos behind? I'd have thought he would have loved it here."

Jonathan wasn't sure how to reply to that one at first. "I didn't want him to get in your way." After he said that he realized how stupid it sounded.

Rebecca gave him a puzzled look. "Jon, come on! I've been around beagles all my life. And it was my mom who gave you Porthos. What's the real reason?"

"Okay, I thought T'Pol might like to look after him. She'd mentioned that she'd cared for him while I was away from the ship on the last leg of our mission."

He omitted the part about him blowing up the Xindi weapon, the crew thinking he'd been dead and how he'd awoken in a Nazi hospital in 1944 New York. Those parts were all under the classified section of Starfleet reports.

"Oh." Somehow the idea of a Vulcan enjoying the company of a canine didn't seem that plausible, but perhaps T'Pol was different. Still there was more to this than met the eye. "And you denied Porthos the pleasure of roaming these pristine white beaches because you thought T'Pol wanted to care for him?"

"You're fishing."

"Yes." She saw no reason to deny it. "I know you Jon, don't forget that."

"Okay…I don't see any reason why you shouldn't know," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. He'd tell her why he's asked T'Pol to look after Porthos because if he didn't she'd be bugging him about it the rest of the afternoon.

"Since I was gonna be away for 2 weeks, I thought T'Pol would be more comfortable staying at my apartment than in a small hotel room which Starfleet had rented for her. If I'd asked her to stay she'd probably have said no. Using Porthos as a pretext, I thought my chances for an affirmative answer were higher."

"Hmm…" Rebecca mused.

"Hmm what?"

"Nothing." She smiled to herself. "She's very pretty."

"Who?"

"Your first officer."

"T'Pol?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I guess…haven't given it much thought."

"You're a hopeless liar, Jon!" she laughed.

"I don't keep her on my ship for her looks, Rebecca. She's the most efficient member of my crew."

"I'm sure she is." Rebecca paused for a minute recalling something. "Remember that night in San Francisco when we had dinner before you left for the Expanse?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Half the night you spent talking about her. I'm not stupid you know. Why didn't you ever tell her?"

Jonathan frowned. He didn't like the direction this conversation was heading, but decided to feign ignorance. "Tell her what?"

"As if I have to spell it out for you."

"Guess you will as I don't have a clue as to what you're talking about."

"No need to get testy, Jon. Honestly you'd think I'd stumbled across a top secret report or something the way you're reacting."

He sighed. He didn't want to get into all of this. It was obvious what Rebecca was driving at, though he was surprised that she'd picked up on his feelings for T'Pol at their last dinner in San Francisco almost a year ago. Had he really been that obvious?

He got up from the table and announced he was going for a swim. She was welcome to join him.

"I'd never keep up, I know what a good swimmer you are, and I'm not having anyone try to coax me out into the deeper waters." Rebecca acknowledged that it wasn't just the Expanse he didn't wish to talk about. His feelings for his first officer were off-limits too. She recalled the tense atmosphere at his apartment when he'd introduced her to T'Pol. What had been going on between them before her arrival?

"Chicken!" he taunted her.

"You can tease me all you like, I'm not going. I'll just take a book with me and watch you from the beach."

"Your loss," he said as he went inside to change. He bounded back from the house dressed in swimming trunks with a towel over his shoulder. Her eyes roved over his nearly nude body. He'd certainly kept in shape, and his muscles were more defined than ever. But the weight loss was rather apparent, and she missed his meatier look…but he could always regain the weight.

"Change your mind?" he asked.

"Nope. You go commune with mighty Neptune or whatever it is you swimmers do."

"Okay, you're coming to the beach though?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in about 10-15 minutes. Just don't come out of the water with an octopus on your head or something. You know I'm squeamish."

He'd done that once on a short vacation of theirs to Baja California, and she'd run from him screaming while he chased her. He'd found the whole thing rather amusing.

"I promise, no octopuses." He chuckled and walked off in the direction of the beach.  
She watched him, admiring his muscular back. He'd seemed like the old Jonathan just now, pleasant and in good spirits. Trying to find out what was eating him was going to be a challenge. Maybe after a few days of sun and sand he'd feel more like opening up, but it could be she was being too optimistic.

She wondered if T'Pol knew…she guessed she did, after all she'd been there with him. Maybe T'Pol had tried to get him to deal with his feelings, and he being the stubborn fool he was, refused to listen. From her brief chat with the Vulcan earlier today outside Jonathan's apartment, she'd gathered T'Pol knew more than she was letting on. Of course she was also bound by Starfleet not to reveal classified matters. She'd said Jonathan had been subjected to a great deal of stress — that much was evident.

Rebecca sighed. For the time being all of this would have to remain a mystery. She went into the house and changed into her swimsuit.

* * *

Jonathan deposited his towel on the sand and ran into the water with enthusiasm. The depth increased quite suddenly and once he about 20 feet into the water, it was already up to his chest. A few more feet and he guessed he wouldn't be able to stand — not that that was a problem for a swimmer of his proficiency. 

The water was glorious and the current not too strong. A wave would wash over the top of him every minute or so, but he didn't mind. It felt so good to be in the water, he'd really missed this. He'd mentioned to Trip once that they should have a swimming pool on board but the commander had replied it probably wouldn't be the best place to be if the gravity plating went offline.

He swam quite far out. He stopped and just treaded water looking out at the area he'd traversed. The house he and Rebecca were staying in looked like a miniature of itself. He spied a dot sitting on the beach and assumed it was Rebecca. He regretted not wearing a diving mask, he wouldn't mind checking out what was below him. He decided to risk it anyway, knowing that the salt water would probably irritate his eyes if he kept them open too long while under the surface.

Inhaling deeply, he dived under the water and swam a few feet down. He estimated the depth to be around 20 feet and he soon reached the bottom. The area was teeming with life — different colored fish, a sea turtle, various sea dwelling plants, starfish and stingrays.

Feeling his eyes already beginning to sting, he made his way back to the top. As he broke the surface he gasped for breath. Content with his exploration for the time being, he swam back towards Rebecca leisurely.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Redemption**

**Chapter 11**

"I'll see you tomorrow at 1300hrs."

"Thank you, Admiral. I appreciate you agreeing to see me on such short notice," T'Pol answered.

"Not a problem. Forrest out."

T'Pol touched the viewscreen and it went dark. She was surprised that Forrest had agreed to see her on such short notice. He'd been intrigued by her request to see him. He'd assured her over the viewscreen that the red tape involved in making her a Starfleet commander was going smoothly, and she need not worry. She explained that wasn't the reason she wished to see him, and that she rather discuss the matter in person.

It was late into the afternoon already. She gathered Jonathan and Rebecca had arrived in Fiji. She pondered if he might get in touch to check on Porthos. If he did, it probably wouldn't be tonight. Besides she had his contact information in case of an emergency so there really wasn't any need for him to call.

Porthos had been sitting by her feet the whole time she'd been talking to Forrest, so she assumed the dog wanted to go for a walk. She stood up from the desk and went to retrieve his leash.

She seemed to walk aimlessly, letting the quadruped lead her to wherever he wanted to go. Her mind was focused on what she wanted to ask Forrest. She was conscious of the fact that there was a slim chance he'd grant her request, but she had to at least try. Jonathan might have asked the same thing if he hadn't been relieved of duty, and then whisked off to Fiji.

What she'd said to Jonathan in regard to the Illyrians was true — it hadn't been meant to just comfort him. She could have asked the Xindi for their help in locating the stranded ship. For that matter Trip or Malcolm could have said something to her, but they'd all been in a state of shock over Archer's supposed death on the Xindi weapon. The Illyrians and their fate was probably the last thing on anyone's mind.

Her own grief over her captain's death had been overwhelming. She'd kept her feelings to herself and attempted to set a good example to the crew; somehow managing to focus her energies on getting Enterprise safely back to Earth with the help of the Aquatics.

The senior staff had probably been aware of how she felt — they'd been experiencing the same: shock, disbelief and sadness. They'd all expected Archer to waltz in through the airlock along with Hoshi, Malcolm and the MACOs. When Malcolm had told her and Trip that the captain didn't make it, it had felt surreal.

She recalled pacing around the Ready Room, in Archer-like fashion, clutching a leather-bound book that had belonged to him. Illogical as it had seemed; having something of his close to her had been a source of comfort.

And it hadn't been the first time she'd mourned the captain. He'd had close calls before, but she hadn't been faced with the reality of his death until he'd volunteered for the suicide mission to Azati Prime. She'd been incredulous when she'd heard his plan, but he'd been determined and once Archer made up his mind to do something, there was no changing it. Similar to how he'd decided they couldn't have a relationship now.

With the destruction of the Xindi weapon his demise had felt more real. When there'd been no news of an explosion on Azati Prime she'd allowed herself to hope that he'd been still alive. But after Malcolm announced that the captain didn't make it she acknowledged there was no plausible or logical explanation for an escape, therefore there was no point in nurturing hope.

Of course with Daniels thrown into the mix there had been a plausible explanation.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts she hadn't noticed Porthos had stopped at a crosswalk. He was a well-trained dog. She stopped allowing the traffic to pass and waited for the signal to turn green, and then she crossed safely.

What had she been thinking? Ah yes, the Illyrians and then she'd got side tracked into remembering how she'd felt about Archer's death. It wasn't until her return to Earth and Archer's miraculous appearance that she'd thought about the Illyrians.

Jonathan's guilt over his actions was understandable. He was a good man and his conscience pained him because he knew what he'd done was morally wrong. He might not recover until some affirmative action in this matter was taken. Perhaps her trip to see Forrest might help.

Porthos had led her to a park not far from the apartment. He'd found a stick lying around and deposited it in his mouth. He looked up at her — stick in mouth, tail wagging madly and she wondered what he wanted. Glancing around she noticed a tall blonde man a few feet away from her with a black Labrador throwing a stick and the dog giving chase, returning the stick to the owner, and the whole ritual starting over. It seemed Porthos wanted her to do the same.

She unhooked his leash, took the stick the dog offered and threw it in the air. Porthos sprang into action and within a few moments was back at her side, stick in mouth. She repeated the action several times, surmising that this was supposed to be a fun activity for both pet and owner. It seemed illogical to her. She couldn't imagine ever throwing a stick for her pet sehlat.

The man with the Labrador glanced in her direction a few times and when he caught T'Pol's eye he smiled at her. She turned abruptly away, unsure of his attentions. A few moments later she heard a deep male voice speak to her.

"Excuse me, are you T'Pol from Enterprise?" She turned around and came face to face with the man.

"Yes I am." There was no point denying it. Besides, the pointed ears were a dead give away.

"I don't mean to disturb you, I just thought I recognized you. I guess you get this all the time, but since you're here I thought I'd take the opportunity to thank you."

"Thank me?" she asked, a little puzzled.

"Yeah, I really appreciate what you, Captain Archer and the rest of the crew did for our planet."

"No thanks are necessary, we were merely doing our duty."

"Well it makes me feel better to say so."

"As you wish."

"I'd have liked to convey my feelings to Jon as well, but I don't know how to get in touch with him."

"You know the captain?" she asked, taking an interest.

"I knew him a long, long time ago — feels like another lifetime actually. He probably wouldn't even remember me now."

"If you give me your name, I could tell him I saw you." On second thought she wondered if that was a good idea. Another person congratulating Archer on saving Earth would probably only serve to aggravate him, old acquaintance or not.

"Is he in San Francisco at the moment?"

"He's currently on vacation."

"Well when he comes back you can tell him Steve Johnson asked about him. But the name probably won't ring a bell."

"And he can contact you where?"

"Starfleet Medical. I just started there this week."

"You're a doctor?"

"Yes," he smiled.

His smile reminded her of Jonathan — the Jonathan from a long time ago, who'd been happy-go-lucky, before the Expanse had changed him forever…

They were similar in height, had the same hair color and build. She wondered how he knew the captain — they looked about the same age, perhaps they'd gone to school together at some point.

"Do Vulcans like dogs?" he asked, pointing to Porthos. The beagle came running towards her with his stick and was disappointed when she didn't throw it for him again. She proceeded to put his leash on, so he wouldn't have the opportunity to cause trouble with the Labrador.

"This is Captain Archer's dog, I'm looking after him while the captain is away."

"Oh I see. Porthos, right?"

"Yes."

"The world's most famous beagle," he smiled, and crouched down to stroke the pup.

"And your dog's name?" she asked. She wasn't remotely interested but her time with humans had taught her it was polite to ask such questions.

"Bailey. Had him since he was a baby," he answered, straightening up.

"He appears well behaved," she noted. The dog had sat by its owner patiently ever since he'd approached T'Pol.

"Pretty much, but it's taken years of patience and practice."

"It's getting late," she explained. "We'll be leaving." She wanted to return to the apartment. Dr. Johnson seemed friendly and harmless but she didn't really feel like making small talk.

"Okay, well it was nice to meet you, T'Pol. Maybe I'll see you and Porthos here again sometime?"

"Perhaps."

"Bye."

She bid him goodbye and walked away with Porthos in tow.

* * *

Entering the apartment she let Porthos free to roam around while she prepared his evening meal. With that done, she started to make herself a salad.

She spent her evening watching the news, then a science program about Earth's weather patterns. Afterwards she prepared for bed and then meditated for around an hour.

She found it hard to center herself; her thoughts kept turning to Jonathan. Was he happy or was he being as irritable and short-tempered with Rebecca as he'd been with her? For his sake she hoped his mood was mellower.

She unfolded her legs, stood up and picked up her meditation mat from the floor. Turning off the lights in the living room, she walked into the bedroom, dropped the mat in the corner and then climbed into Jonathan's bed. She decided to sleep on the same side as he did. Leaning back into the pillows she had to agree with him — this was a lot more comfortable than the sofa bed.

Turning off the bedside lamp she stared up at the ceiling and found herself wondering how many women had shared this bed with Jonathan. Of course it was none of her business. Obviously Rebecca was one of them…as for the others well that was unknown.

What did it feel like to spend the night in Jonathan's arms? The closest she'd ever got to it was the night they'd spent together under a blanket in the temple at P'Jem. She could be in possession of that knowledge if she hadn't stopped herself a few nights ago. Just the memory of that moment caused her stomach to tighten and her heart rate to increase.

What if she hadn't stopped? Vulcans didn't have one night stands — at least not any Vulcans she knew of. While her knowledge of sexual practices amongst her people was not as extensive as she might have liked, she felt certain that only bonded or married couples engaged in such intimate acts.

So it wouldn't have been right to make love with him while he hadn't been of sound mind. He wouldn't understand what he was getting himself into. Not only that, since he'd been drunk he wasn't really giving consent.

Turning onto her side she acknowledged that she'd made the right decision, but felt a tinge of regret that she'd never experience falling asleep in Jonathan's arms or waking up to his smile. Is that what Rebecca was experiencing this very night?

Why did her thoughts have to take this direction? This was precisely the reason she'd felt trepidation over sleeping in his bed. She'd anticipated that her thoughts would trouble her.

She closed her eyes and hoped to fall asleep soon.

* * *

At 12:50pm the next day T'Pol climbed up the steps of Starfleet Headquarters, opened the door and walked along the corridor to the nearest elevator. She selected the third floor and made her way to Maxwell Forrest's office.

She told his secretary that she had an appointment with the Admiral. The young lady noted she was a few minutes early and asked her to take a seat and wait while she informed the Admiral of her arrival.

A few minutes later the secretary said she could go in. T'Pol stood up, buzzed the door to his office and heard Forrest call her in.

"Admiral, I appreciate you seeing me at such short notice," she said as she sat down in front of his desk.

"Not a problem, T'Pol. My schedule was rather light today. I know you said yesterday that this wasn't about your application to Starfleet, but since you are here I wanted to let you know that it's still being processed and should be approved shortly. Jonathan's recommendation was extremely praiseworthy. He thinks you're an exemplary officer and that you'd be a credit to Starfleet. Looking over your record, I'm very much inclined to agree with him."

"Thank you, Admiral."

"So, what can I do for you?"

"I came to see you about Captain Archer."

"Oh?" Forrest seemed surprised.

"I'm aware of what happened several days ago in the debriefing…Ambassador Soval filled me in on a few details and I know that you asked Captain Archer to take some time off."

"Yes I did. I was pleased to hear he took my advice. Do you know where he went?"

"To Fiji with an old acquaintance."

"Rebecca?"

"Actually, yes." It seemed everyone knew who Rebecca was.

"Good. If anyone can talk some sense into him, she should. She's got her wits about her. Never could understand why Jon dumped her."

"Admiral, do you believe a two week vacation will cure what ails the Captain?"

"T'Pol, you make it sound like he has a disease."

"No, I didn't mean to imply that. I am concerned about his emotional well-being."

"I see. I did speak to Doctor Phlox about it 4 days ago, asking him to keep an eye on the captain."

Well that explained the dinner at Madame Chang's then.

"Admiral, do you know what the problem is?" she asked.

"The doctor said he could be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder."

"I'm no psychiatrist, but I believe the source of the problem could be the captain's guilt."

"Can you explain, T'Pol?" Forrest had an inkling where the Vulcan might be going with this but wanted precise details.

"He won't forgive himself for what he did to the Illyrians and until he comes to terms with that and just accepts it, I don't think he will get better."

"The ship that was stranded because Archer ordered their warp coil to be stolen?"

"Yes, Admiral."

"A tricky decision. As I recall, if he hadn't done so, the rendezvous with Degra would not have happened?"

"That is correct."

"Jonathan knew going in that his mission was to save Earth at any cost — everyone was counting on him. Sometimes decisions like these have to be made. War is a nasty business. I don't see what else he could have done."

"I'm not discussing the options right now, Admiral. I'm stating what I believe to be the problem. I would like to suggest a solution."

"I'm listening," Forrest replied. He was deeply impressed with T'Pol's concern for her captain, and acknowledged that all of Archer's praise of her was well deserved and not exaggerated. She would be a great asset to Starfleet.

"The Illyrians need to be found and rescued."

"T'Pol, are you suggesting we go looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack?"

She was familiar with that Earth saying, but didn't think it would have to be that difficult. "Admiral, I believe if we enlisted help it might just be possible to find them."

"Help from whom?"

"The sub-space amplifiers we used to contact you while we were in the Expanse are still there. I believe we could use them to contact the newly formed Xindi council. I would like to enlist their help in locating the Illyrians. I personally know one of the Xindi humanoid commanders and I feel certain he would be willing to help. In fact, I wish I had actually done that before returning to Earth."

"T'Pol, as much as I'd like to help, I just don't think this is possible. Enterprise is being repaired, Columbia is still being built and there aren't any ships I can send out into the Expanse on a fool's mission."

Admiral Forrest was not an easy man to convince. He did have a point. There weren't any available ships even if the Xindi did agree to help them. "Then may I at least have your permission to contact the Xindi commander and see if they'd be willing to find the Illyrians?"

"Why would they agree to do that?"

"It would be a personal favour. I know from the captain that in the future the Xindi will be members of a Federation alliance with Earth. Why not jump start that now?"

"Let me talk to the members of the Starfleet council and get back to you in a few days."

"Very well, Admiral." She was disappointed, she'd hoped he would at least have allowed her to contact the Xindi and request their help. He obviously wasn't aware of the extent of Jonathan's deep-seated guilt.

She got up to leave. "Thank you for your time, sir."

"My pleasure, T'Pol. It's nice to see how much you care for your captain."

The Admiral had no idea.

* * *

That evening she had dinner with Phlox. He'd heard that she was staying at Jonathan's apartment and thought she might enjoy the company. She'd accepted his invitation and looked forward to it. Though she did not mind being alone, she enjoyed the doctor's company. He was her friend and after Jonathan he was probably the one she was closest to. They'd seemed to share a bond on Enterprise, being the only two non-humans on board.

The doctor seemed in good spirits. They were having dinner at an Italian restaurant in Ghiradelli Square. T'Pol ordered the tagliatelle in pesto sauce, while Phlox decided to try out the meat lovers' pizza.

"You don't mind do you?" he asked, after the waiter left.

"Mind what, doctor?" she asked.

"Me consuming meat."

"Oh that. No, I've become accustomed. The captain and Commander Tucker almost always eat meat at our meals together."

"Yes, of course," he chuckled. "I remember that time you came to sickbay after your first meal together asking me for a double dose of nasal inhibitor as you said the smell of steak made you nauseous. Amazing what you have become accustomed to over the last three years."

"Yes," she answered absent-mindedly.

The food was served promptly and the doctor proceeded to go into a monologue talking about some new medical experiment he was interested in. Her mind was elsewhere, thinking over her visit with Forrest, wondering if she'd pushed her case hard enough. She wished her meeting with Forrest had been more fruitful. But at least he hadn't flatly refused her.

Phlox noticed that his Vulcan friend seemed light years away and asked her if there was something she wanted to get off her chest.

"No, I'm fine."

"It's a shame the captain didn't take you with him, a vacation might have done you some good as well."

"The captain didn't go alone, doctor."

"Oh? I must be behind on the latest gossip. That's what happens when Hoshi's not around. Who did he go with?"

"Her name is Rebecca…I believe she's an old friend."

"Ah…and this Rebecca troubles you."

"I am uncertain as to why you would come to such a conclusion, Phlox."

He shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his mouth with his last piece of pizza. "Something is obviously bothering you. I know you care about the captain, perhaps you are worried this woman will hurt him?"

"The captain's love life isn't any of my business."

"No, but that doesn't stop you from being concerned," the doctor answered.

"If the captain was happy with this Rebecca, then I would be happy for him, Doctor."

"Very well. So what's the story on this woman?"

"You'd find out more by asking Commander Tucker or Admiral Forrest. They both seem to be knowledgeable about her."

Phlox noted T'Pol's reluctance in discussing Rebecca and began to form a theory of his own. It wasn't that she was concerned as to whether this woman hurt the captain or not, it was the fact that this woman may be in a position she wished upon herself.

He smiled to himself…he'd been keenly aware of Archer's attraction to his first officer, it could very well be that the Vulcan had developed a romantic attachment to her captain. After all Vulcans were not automatons, they had emotions and feelings just like everyone else — they only choose to hide them better. He decided not to press her any further about Rebecca.

"You and Porthos getting on well?"

"Yes."

"Make sure you don't give him too much cheese," he advised.

"The captain instructed me on the amounts permitted."

"Good." Phlox asked for the dessert menu and then ordered something called a triple chocolate meltdown.

"What's in it?" T'Pol asked as she didn't have a menu.

"It's a fudge-filled chocolate cake topped with dark and white chocolate, plus vanilla ice cream and hot chocolate fudge," Phlox said reading from the menu. "Sounds delicious!" he enthused.

"Sounds highly unhealthy."

"You should indulge your sweet tooth now and then, who knows you might enjoy it."

She didn't reply and took a sip of water. Then she remembered something she wanted to ask the doctor. "Phlox, do you know of a Dr. Steve Johnson?"

"Hmm…I don't think so. Why?"

"I met him today. He says he knows the captain, and that he started working at Starfleet Medical this week."

"Well I'm on leave like the rest of the crew, so I'm not up to date on the hirings at Starfleet Medical."

"No I guess you wouldn't be. I'm sorry I asked."

"No problem. I can find out about him if you'd like."

"It's not necessary."

After Phlox finished his dessert, they paid the check and exited the restaurant. T'Pol decided not to take a taxi, it was a pleasant evening and she'd enjoy the walk. The doctor offered to go with her, but she said it wasn't necessary and didn't want to inconvenience him. He thanked her for her company and said he hoped they could do this again soon. She politely agreed and bid him goodnight as he climbed into his taxi.

She watched the vehicle drive away and then started on her walk back to the apartment. It was a cool evening, but she enjoyed the feel of the fresh air on her face. It was foggy which reminded her of her past escapades from the Vulcan compound to her jazz club. Thinking back to that time it all seemed so uncomplicated. Her path had been straight in front of her — she'd hoped to further her career working for Ambassador Soval.

And then Jonathan Archer had crossed her path and it had become so complicated. Despite that, she had no regrets. She didn't wish to undo her emotional attachment to him — if anything she felt it made her a more rounded out individual. Vulcans may suppress their feelings, but as V'Lar had told her once, they still experienced them.

T'Pol entered the apartment and found a rather happy beagle dancing around her feet. "Porthos, I assume you are pleased to see me."

The dog barked back and jumped up onto her legs. "No, you already had cheese today, I'm not going to give you anymore. You'll only end up feeling sick." She refilled his bowl with fresh water and prepared for bed.

She checked the viewscreen before retiring thinking Jonathan might have called and left a message, but there was nothing. She made herself some mint tea, then headed to the bedroom and went to sleep.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**Redemption**

**Chapter 12**

The sky was a marvellous mixture of yellow, orange and red. Rebecca watched the sun setting and then disappearing behind the horizon from their table. Jonathan's choice of restaurant had been perfect: the food was delicious, the wine expensive and the view breathtaking.

They were eating outside on a terrace with a view over the ocean. It was the first evening out since their arrival yesterday. Last night they'd stayed at the villa and ordered in some Chinese food from a local take out place that delivered. Rebecca had offered to cook, but Jonathan wouldn't hear of it, as she'd already made lunch. He reiterated that she hadn't come out here for her to slave over a stove for him.

They'd had a pleasant day together — not doing anything too strenuous and getting orientated in their new surroundings. Jonathan had gone for an early morning swim before breakfast, then they'd driven into town and paid a visit to the local tourist office. They'd picked up a few brochures on places they might visit during their stay. After that they'd paid the local grocery store a visit and stocked up on fruits, cereals, bread and a few other breakfast items which should last them for the next couple of days.

Most of the time Jonathan was quiet. He seemed deep in thought and Rebecca was cautious as to what she asked him. However she was still determined to figure out a way to get him to open up.

She asked the waiter for another bottle of wine. A few glasses and Jonathan just might loosen up, she thought. He'd hardly spoken all evening, and only when she'd prodded him with questions. He seemed lost in another world.

"Beautiful," she said, as she sipped her white wine.

"Pardon?"

"I said it's beautiful. Don't you think so?"

"Oh the view? Yeah it's nice," Jonathan replied. He felt rather full and a little sleepy. Rebecca had ordered for him, and insisted he eat all three courses, including a very rich dessert — blackforest gateau with lashings of extra cream. He was certain she was trying to fatten him up.

"You tired, Jon?" she asked wondering if adjusting to the time change was affecting him. Being a seasoned traveller she didn't find switching time zones much of a problem. And there was only a five hour time difference between Fiji and the west coast of the US, despite having crossed the date line.

"Yeah a little. Probably all this food and the wine."

"And the time change."

"Right."

"You slept well last night though."

"Pretty much." In fact he'd fallen asleep the minute his head had hit the pillow.

The waiter returned with the extra bottle she'd ordered. He filled Rebecca's glass and was about to do the same to Jonathan's when he put his hand over the glass. "No, thanks."

He left the bottle on the table for Rebecca. "You don't want any more wine?" she asked.

"Nope, I've had about three glasses already. Too much and I get a headache."

"Jon, you only get a headache with red wine. This is expensive Chardonnay — why not have another one?"

"Who's gonna drive back to the villa?" he asked.

"I'm still sober."

"At the moment, but you just ordered that bottle."

"I ordered it for you."

"Well I didn't ask for it," he snapped.

"I'll ask to take it with me then," she replied, ignoring his rude response. "No point in wasting a perfectly good bottle of wine."

"Yeah, if you want."

"We can go if you're ready," she suggested.

"Okay, let me just ask for the check." He motioned to the waiter who quickly came over. He returned with the bill a few minutes later and Rebecca took it, charging it to her editor.

"Shouldn't we pay for this ourselves?" Jon asked. It didn't seem right that Rebecca's boss or her paper should be fitting the bill.

"He told me it was to be an all expensive paid vacation — I think that should include going out."

"And what's he gonna say when you return empty handed?"

"Maybe I'll pick up an exclusive on the island — who knows we might have an earthquake or hurricane and I'll be an eyewitness."

"Somehow I don't think that's what your boss had in mind. Let me charge this to my Starfleet account."

"Jon—"

"No, let me do this okay? I don't want to feel guilty about misusing your boss's generosity. It's bad enough that we're here and not paying for the flights or accommodation."

"Okay." She gave in, not wanting to inflict guilt on him. He'd always been such an honest guy.

Hmm…that got her thinking. Guilt — she wondered just how much he was carrying on those broad shoulders of his. He'd saved Earth…but she guessed at some moral cost…and whatever he'd done his conscience was plaguing him now.

They left the restaurant after he paid the bill. Rebecca hopped into the driver's seat, placing the bottle of wine she'd ordered on the back seat. The waiter had agreed to her taking it home.

She glanced sideways at Jonathan as she put the jeep into gear. He was so quiet and contemplative — a shadow of his former self, or at least the Jon Archer she'd once known.

Their journey back took around ten minutes. Rebecca didn't care for the silence so turned the music on. She wasn't gonna force Jon to make small talk -- she'd learnt at dinner that was as difficult as pulling teeth.

She pulled up outside their villa and they both exited. She placed her bottle of wine in the refrigerator and went outside on the balcony to join Jonathan. He was staring out onto the ocean.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"What?" He turned to face her.

"I said penny for your thoughts."

"Got a penny?" he teased, giving her a half-smile.

"Hey, that's more like the Jon Archer I know," she said, giving his arm a gentle punch. "And here I've been thinking you'd forgotten how to smile."

"No…not forgotten."

"You just don't feel like it," she answered, rubbing his arm.

"Guess not." He turned away and continued to stare out onto the ocean.

"It's guilt isn't it?" She was wary of bringing this up, but her theory was that she'd be able to ascertain if she was correct by his reaction.

"What?" His demeanour immediately changed, his face was now one big frown.

"Guilt is an emotion that can eat you up and if you don't somehow deal with it, forgive yourself, make amends and move forward well—"

"Rebecca, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you."

"Then I suggest you drop it now." His tone sounded threatening.

"I'm not scared. Maybe blowing up at me might make you feel better."

"Don't tempt me," he whispered through gritted teeth. She could see the anger bubbling up inside him. She wondered how long he'd kept that volcano at bay.

"Whatever is bugging you, I know you aren't gonna tell me, you'll give me the usual spiel about it being classified and all, but my hunch is that something really bad happened out there. Something you can't forgive yourself for, and the guilt is tearing you apart."

She was good; he'd give her that. Her journalistic instincts were right on the nose. But why couldn't she just let it alone? He'd asked her yesterday politely to not ask him about the Expanse, why couldn't she take no for an answer?

"I'm fine," he reiterated for what felt like the thousandth time.

"Right, and I'm the Queen of Sheba."

"Whatever," he spat out, rolling his eyes. He decided to walk away before he did lose his cool with her. He was in no mood for a confrontation. She followed him to the end of the balcony and grabbed his arm before he had a chance to walk down the steps. "Jon, you can't run away from this. Walking away from me and my questions isn't going to help matters."

"Can't you take NO for an answer?" he shouted. His eyes focused downward on her arm which was holding him. "Remove your arm, please."

"Where are you going?" she asked, releasing him as he'd asked.

"Don't worry, I won't drown myself," he answered, sarcasm dripping off his lips as he walked away from her.

"Oh I know you won't, you're too good of a swimmer," she answered back, hands on her hips.

He turned around and walked back up the steps. "Listen Rebecca, maybe this trip wasn't such a great idea. I'm not good company — in fact I'm the direct opposite. I thought maybe coming out here might help me, but I've got doubts now. I'm on edge, I'm irritable and I can't deal with your questions. So if you are my friend you won't ask them, okay?"

"No." Her answer was adamant.

"What do you mean, no?" Why had he turned around? He should have just carried on walking.

"If I didn't give a damn about you, I might agree. But the thing is I do care about you and Jon, you need help. I've never seen you like this before."

"God, you and T'Pol sound like broken records!"

"If she's been telling you the same kind of things then she's an intuitive, caring friend, like I'm trying to be. Can't you get that through your thick skull?" Now Rebecca's voice was raised.

"I'm going for a walk. I don't have the energy for this conversation."

She let him go and sighed in exasperation.

* * *

Half an hour passed and he had no idea how far he had walked. He couldn't see the villa anymore, and he'd reached the more commercial area with the high-rise hotels. He sighed — this trip was not turning out how he'd thought.

He felt depressed. Here he was in paradise with a beautiful woman, eating delicious food, swimming in crystal clear waters, enjoying the glorious warm weather and he was miserable. When they'd gone to the tourist office this morning he'd tried to muster up enthusiasm for Rebecca's sake, but it had all been a show. He wasn't interested in excursions and expeditions.

A vacation wasn't the answer to what ailed him. Not that he was sure what was. Maybe if he knew the Illyrian ship was safe, or had been aided by a good Samaritan he'd feel a lot better. If wouldn't erase what he'd done but at least he'd know they weren't suffering because of something he'd done.

T'Pol had been right — she'd told him spending two weeks out here wasn't going to change anything. Now he agreed with her, but he didn't know what to do about it. When he'd been in the Expanse he'd been too busy to even think about such things. Maybe he needed to give it more time. After all, he'd only arrived yesterday. He shouldn't expect a miraculous change.

When he'd agreed to join Rebecca out here he'd hoped she'd keep him distracted, not ask him a hundred questions. He didn't want to be reminded of the Expanse or what he'd done out there.

Also, he wished he hadn't brought up T'Pol this evening. What was it with women? Did they just have this inherent need to ask questions and get to the bottom of things? It obviously wasn't restricted to human women. Rebecca said she'd keep at him because she was his friend. He acknowledged that both of them meant well, but he couldn't cope with their questions or requests to talk about what troubled him.

And he definitely didn't want to deal with Rebecca's curiosity on the subject of T'Pol. She'd already hinted yesterday that there was more to his relationship with his first officer than met the eye. And boy was she right. Thoughts of T'Pol kept flitting through his brain.

He felt guilty for the way he'd treated and misled her. She probably thought he was involved with Rebecca and that he was some kind of cad for kissing her — and not just once. He felt bad that he hadn't told her the truth about how he felt. She deserved to know, especially since she'd told him several times how much she cared for him.

He also felt like a fool for refusing her. What man in his right mind would refuse T'Pol? And not just because she was stunningly beautiful…but because he loved her mind, how logical she was, and for the care and sympathy she'd shown him.

He recalled how she wouldn't take no for an answer when he'd wanted to go exploring the dark nebula on his own. She insisted on accompanying him and then had somehow got him to open about his feelings for A.G. and the NX-Project. He'd felt so happy at the moment when they'd witnessed the charges lighting up the nebula together.

Right now he wouldn't mind a bout of amnesia — he was tired of his brain reminding him of past events — good and bad. Maybe he could induce a temporary kind. He walked up the steps from the beach to one of the high-rise hotels. Surely there would be a bar inside.

* * *

It was 2am and Rebecca was worried. She regretted letting him walk off on his own. Where was he? She remembered during the time they'd been dating if he was particularly upset about something that had gone wrong on the NX-Project he and A.G. would go down to the 602 to drown their sorrows. But she hadn't been excessively worried, knowing he had his friend with him.

Now he was a loose canon, consumed with guilt. Who knew what was going on in his head? Did he feel worthless? She couldn't imagine Starfleet giving him command back of Enterprise in this condition. Did his superiors even realize what bad shape he was in?

She was about to get into the jeep and go looking for him when she heard a noise on the balcony. She went to inspect and found him climbing up the stairs.

"Jon, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I guess it's…late," he hiccuped.

"And you're drunk."

"Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze me."

He stumbled into the villa and plonked himself on the sofa. She followed him inside.

"I'll make some coffee," she stated. "You're gonna be so hungover tomorrow."

"And won't you be happy?"

"Jon!"

"What?"

"I see your intoxication hasn't dulled your sarcasm in any way."

"Guess not. You making that coffee?"

She nodded and went to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a hot mug of coffee. "Here, drink this," she ordered.

He sipped at the steaming liquid. They sat in silence for a few minutes and then Jon started to mumble something. "It's good he's dead…yeah…better this way. He'd be…I'd just be a big disappointment…he…he'd probably disown me."

"Who, Jon?"

"Just wanted to make him proud…that's all. Get his engine built and captain the first ship that carried it. It was his dream, and mine to fulfil it. Yeah…did a great job of that, didn't I?"

"But you did," she interjected, finally understanding he was talking about his father.

"For a while…only for a while. And then it all changed. I wasn't of any use to Starfleet as an explorer. No use. What they needed was a hard-hearted military guy. Casey…yeah General Casey…"

"What about him?"

"Should have sent him. In times of crisis and war men who will do anything at all costs are needed."

He placed the coffee mug on the table, and stood up. He started to pace, as he'd done many times before on the Enterprise Bridge. "It's not in the Starfleet manual, you know."

"What isn't?" she asked.

"No one ever said anything about having to sell your soul. I'd signed up to explore strange new worlds and civilisations. Not even in the small print — nothing about crossing lines."

She said nothing hoping he'd continue speaking his mind. Finally he was opening up!

"They said they were counting on me… me dammit! Forrest stood there outside the airlock on Enterprise and said to me everyone was counting on me. How could I fail? It wasn't an option." He moved over to the table and gulped down the rest of the coffee.

"So I couldn't fail…and success was to be at any cost…any cost." He stopped, as if thinking over what he'd just said.

"Jon?" She hoped he'd carry on.

"He told me and he was right. He was right — mercy is not a quality that will serve you well in the Expanse."

She didn't know who he was talking about, but she gathered Admiral Forrest hadn't said that.

"And I didn't believe it, didn't think I'd have to be faced with those kinds of decisions." He gripped the now empty coffee mug tightly. "I couldn't have been more wrong. What a naïve fool I was."

If only he wasn't being so cryptic. But she guessed he'd been trained well. He wasn't going to divulge Starfleet secrets even if he was inebriated.

He walked to the kitchen and placed the empty mug in the sink. Rebecca followed him. "You're not a fool."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I've changed, Rebecca. The man standing in this kitchen isn't the man you dated all those years ago. This guy he's…he's the opposite of the man you knew once."

"People change. I'm not the same woman you dated either."

"Maybe," he mused. "It was hard in the Expanse, Rebecca. Harder than I could ever have imagined it to be. I shut off my conscience because if I didn't I knew I'd never get the ship or my crew back home, or accomplish my main objective."

"I guessed as much," she said, not wanting to ask for details, but relieved that he was finally talking.

"I decided I'd deal with it all later…I kept my eyes fixed solely on my goal — save Earth — at any cost…I just never realized how my actions would haunt me when I returned home."

He moved back into the living and sat down on the couch. Rebecca sat next to him. "Whatever you did couldn't have been that bad — I mean Starfleet isn't pressing charges are they?"

"You can't judge, you weren't there. Besides, you don't even know what I'm talking about. As for Starfleet…you think they care? They love all the press and attention I've been getting — they have a conquering hero on staff. It makes me sick to my stomach."

He buried his face in his hands. "God, I hate myself."

"Jon…"

For the first time in her life Rebecca felt utterly helpless. She didn't know how to comfort him. Her hand hovered over his back, about to stroke it in comfort, but then she decided against it. "You hungry?" she asked, after several moments of awkward silence.

She heard a muted no escape his lips. She offered to make him another cup of coffee but he refused.

"I guess I should go to bed." He stood up and padded across the room to his bedroom. "Goodnight, Rebecca."

"Night." She watched him shut the door behind him and she sighed heavily.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**Redemption**

**Chapter 13**

_He was led into the courtroom by two guards, his hands restrained behind his back with handcuffs. The room was brimming over with spectators — all who'd come to watch the fall of the Earth captain and witness the final verdict. He sensed a thousand eyes boring into him. _

_He walked down the aisle and saw T'Pol, Hoshi, Phlox, Trip, Malcolm and Travis sitting faithfully on the defence side, as they'd done for the length of the trial. T'Pol looked drawn and pale — she'd been working tirelessly on his defence, even though he'd told her it was fruitless. _

_He was ushered into position at the front next to his legal counsel. He was uncuffed and instructed to sit down. _

_"There will be a delay in the final verdict as the prosecution wishes to call another witness to the stand," announced one of the clerks. _

_Jonathan wondered who it could be. In the end, it wasn't as if made any difference — his fate was already sealed. He knew they'd render the judgement of guilty. _

_"The prosecution calls Henry Archer to the stand."_

_What! His head jerked around to see his father walking down the aisle, past him and then up to the stand. It was impossible…yet his eyes didn't deceive him. Henry repeated the Illyrian oath to speak only the truth and then sat down. _

_Questions were fired at him — what was his involvement in the warp 5 project, what had been his purpose and motivation in creating his engine? He answered the sole purpose of his engine was for humans to explore the galaxy. He was asked if he'd have sanctioned it's use in a war. Henry's answer was simple — no. Next he was requested to identify the defendant. _

_"That's Jonathan Archer," Henry replied._

_"Is he your son?" the lawyer questioned._

_"He and I share DNA, but do I consider him my son? The answer to that question is no. My son would not have committed the crimes this trial accuses this man of."_

_Jonathan could feel tears pricking his eyes. This was worse than any punishment the Illyrians could inflict on him. _

_"Are you in effect disowning this man, Mr Archer?" The lawyer seemed to want to drive the point home._

_"My son was an explorer — not a thief or criminal. I don't know the man sitting over there."_

_"Thank you, Mr Archer. You may step down." Henry Archer got up, and walked past his son._

_"Dad," Jonathan called out to him, standing up. Henry stopped and glared at him. "If you'd just let me explain."_

_Henry's eyes turned to ice. "Don't call me dad, I don't have a son." _

_Jonathan watched him leave the courtroom and felt a stabbing pain in his chest. He'd failed his father, and would never have the chance to explain. _

_"Sit down," his counsel advised. He did as he was told, and awaited his fate. The jury stood and one of its members read out their verdict._

_"For the charge of stealing a warp coil from an Illyrian ship, attacking and disabling it, we find the defendant, Captain Jonathan Archer, guilty." The jury member continued, "For the charge of involuntarily manslaughter to the Illyrian crew we find the defendant, guilty."_

_During the course of the trial Jonathan had learnt the fate of the Illyrian crew he'd stolen the warp coil from. They had been attacked by pirates — being defenseless they hadn't been able to ward them off. Most of the crew had been killed. _

_The judge thanked the jury for their verdict and delivered the punishment. "Captain Archer, please stand."_

_He did as requested._

_"The jury has found you guilty of the crimes you were accused of. You are sentenced to life imprisonment on the Illyrian homeworld. Being an off-worlder, you will have no chance of appeal."_

_Jonathan was not surprised. He'd been prepared for this verdict from the very first day of this trial. _

_"However, in reviewing this case I feel there has been an oversight. Captain Archer didn't act alone in his deeds. His crew are sentient beings who could have refused his orders. Therefore, I feel it is my duty to charge all involved with the raid on the Illyrian vessel. I'm ordering the arrest of Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed and the Vulcan T'Pol. They will all stand trial."_

_"Nooo!" Jonathan yelled. _

_"Be quiet!" the judge ordered, "or you'll spend your first month's imprisonment in solitary confinement."_

_"They're innocent — it was all my idea. You can't do this! We had a deal. They were to be granted immunity."_

_"We don't make deals, Captain. This is not your Earth-style justice system."_

_"But they're innocent," he repeated, his cry falling on deaf ears. He turned around and saw the guards take away Trip, Malcolm and T'Pol. T'Pol's eyes locked with his for a brief moment— they were warm and kind, as if she wanted him to know she forgave him and it wasn't his fault._

_"They're innocent," he cried. "It's not their fault…"_

"It's not their fault!"

"Jonathan!" Rebecca shook him violently. "Jonathan, wake up!"

His eyes flew open and he saw Rebecca sitting across from him on his bed.

"I heard you shouting, I rushed in here and you were tossing and turning, repeating something about them being innocent," she explained.

"Oh god," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "It was only a dream. It was so real." He sat up.

Rebecca leaned over and turned on his bedside lamp. Jonathan's hair was damp and his chest was covered in a film of sweat. "It's okay," she said, stroking his cheek. "I'll get you a glass of water."

"Thanks."

She returned with the water and he gulped it down. "What time is it?"

"A little after 5am."

"Sorry I woke you up."

"It's okay, don't worry about it. That must have been some dream."

"It wasn't. It was a nightmare. My father was there. He told me he disowned me, that he didn't have a son anymore."

"Jon, it's your subconscious playing tricks on you."

"What do you mean?" He looked puzzled.

"Well it figures you'd dream about your father after you were talking about him earlier."

"I was?"

"You don't remember our conversation before you went to bed?"

He tried to remember talking to Rebecca. He vaguely recalled downing several drinks at some bar, then walking back to the villa. Yeah, then he'd come back and had coffee.

"My memory's kinda messed up. I remember having coffee, but I'm a bit foggy on what I said." He hoped he hadn't divulged anything classified.

"We can talk about it later in the morning. You should try and get back to sleep."

"Rebecca, what did I say?" he asked, fear in his voice.

She smiled. "Don't worry. You talked a bit about your father, how hard it was in the Expanse, but you were extremely vague."

"Oh…okay."

"Now try and get some rest."

"No thanks. I'm getting up."

"Jon, you didn't get to sleep till almost 3am. You've had around two hours sleep."

"I don't care. I'm not going back to sleep." If there was any chance of dreaming the same dream or it continuing…well he wasn't taking it.

"Fair enough, I won't argue with you. I'm gonna go back to bed, unless you need me to talk?"

"Nah, I'll be okay. I might watch a movie or something."

"All right, Jon. I'll see you later." She kissed his cheek, and left his room.

He pulled back the sheets and climbed out of bed. First order of the day was to have a shower. As his feet touched the floor, he felt a little giddy — probably an after effect of his drinking bout earlier.

He stepped into the shower and turned the hot water on, letting the spray pummel his body. It was refreshing and soon he felt awake. God, what a nightmare! His guilty conscience mixed with alcohol was a lethal combination. They were pretty imaginative too. It had felt so real…especially his father. He couldn't erase the image of his father standing there saying he didn't have a son.

He was relieved he hadn't been overly open with Rebecca. Bits of their conversation were starting to come back to him. At least he hadn't mentioned the Illyrians or been specific about anything. Still he shouldn't have said anything in the first place. Well that would teach him that getting drunk wasn't a solution to anything. It was time to start acting like an adult.

He got dressed and as he strapped his wrist watch on he wondered what time it was in San Francisco. Rebecca had said there was a five hour time difference, so he estimated it was just after 10am there.

He decided to call T'Pol. After that dream he yearned to see her face, just to make sure she was doing okay. Truth be told he missed her, but he'd make it look casual, as if he was checking in on Porthos.

He walked into the living room and tapped in a few keys on the computer screen. He waited while it connected to the viewscreen in his apartment. T'Pol answered promptly.

"Jonathan!" She sounded surprised to hear from him. Was she pleased?

"I thought I'd just check in on things. Is everything going okay?"

"Are you well?" she asked.

Guess I look like crap, he thought. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just had trouble sleeping last night."

"I see." Why didn't she just say I told you so, I knew the vacation wouldn't help.

"So how's Porthos?" He wanted to sound casual and non-chalant, but felt nervous.

"All is well here. I've been walking Porthos every day and talking to him, just as you requested."

"That's good." He racked his brain trying to think up something to say. "How's the weather?" After saying that he thought what a dumb question!

"It's been warm and sunny the last few days," T'Pol answered.

"Great. The weather's been good here too. Nice and warm."

"I'm pleased."

"Anything else going on I should be aware of?" he asked, sensing the conversation was going to stall at any moment.

"Commander Tucker called here the morning you left."

"Trip? What did he want?"

"He wasn't specific, just said he wanted to talk to you and that he would get in touch upon your return."

"Okay. Is he having a good time in the Caymans?"

"I believe so."

"Good."

"Was there something else, Jonathan?"

Oh, so she wanted him off the line. He felt disappointed; she didn't miss him at all. He was just a nuisance to her now.

"Well, yeah, I haven't asked how you are."

"I'm fine."

"You been keeping busy?" He wondered what she'd been up to.

"Yes."

Okay, he gave up. She obviously didn't want to have a conversation with him; her one word responses proved that. He wasn't going to push it.

"Well I'm glad to hear everything's okay. I don't want to keep you—"

"Oh there is something I need to tell you," she interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"I was walking Porthos the other day and a man approached me. He asked me if I was on the Enterprise, and then said he knew you. His name was Steve Johnson."

The name sounded familiar but Jonathan couldn't quite place it at the moment. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"He asked me to convey his thanks for saving Earth."

"Oh."

"He's working at Starfleet Medical now, and said you could contact him there if you wished to do so upon your return."

"He's a doctor?"

"I believe so."

The puzzle came together and Jonathan remembered who he was — someone he hadn't seen in almost 18 years.

"Okay."

"You remember him, Jonathan?" T'Pol asked, showing the first sign of interest since this conversation started.

"Yeah, just an old acquaintance," he replied, being vague on purpose.

"If I see him again, should I relay a message?"

"You planning on bumping into him again, T'Pol?" From what she'd said he assumed their meeting was accidental.

"No, I am not planning on it." Her tone was cold and distant; he'd obviously annoyed her.

"Okay. Anyway, thanks for looking after Porthos. I appreciate it."

She didn't answer.

"Well bye then."

"Goodbye, Jonathan."

The screen went blank. The conversation couldn't have been more awkward or stilted. Every question he posed felt forced and each reply she gave was short and to the point, as if she wanted the call to end as soon as possible. Well what did he expect — adulation and affection? He'd made his bed…now he had to lay in it.

It had been good to see her; she looked well rested and as beautiful as ever. Being off-duty agreed with her. He hoped looking after Porthos wasn't too much of an inconvenience, and that his pet was on his best behaviour.

He stood up and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. He was feeling hungry now. He opened the fridge up and decided to make some scrambled eggs. First he poured himself a glass of orange juice, then went to make some coffee. He'd need caffeine to keep awake, though at the moment he felt rather wired, and guessed it was the adrenaline which had been produced during his nightmare.

He ate breakfast outside and watched the sun rise. There was something magical and wondrous about watching the birth of a new day. Despite his recent experiences, he could still appreciate that.

Nature carried on unaware that its very existence had hung in the balance for the last year or so. He watched the gulls fly tirelessly over the water's edge, fishing for their breakfast. That's all they had to worry about — the next meal. Sometimes he envied the simplicity of the animal kingdom. They didn't have consciences to deal with or ethical dilemmas to agonise over.

He took a bite of toast as his mind churned over what T'Pol had said. He hoped Trip was enjoying himself in the Caymans — he deserved it. He was curious as to why he'd got in touch, if it had been something important he'd have left a specific message.  
Trip and him hadn't exactly been the best of friends since the Expanse — maybe that could be remedied.

Then there was Steve Johnson — that was certainly a blast from the past, but it brought back a lot of memories he'd rather keep buried. It wasn't Steve's fault…it was just the mention of his name caused the memory of a beautiful young girl who'd broken his heart to resurface.

He tried to recall the last time he'd seen Steve. Must have been the party he'd held  
at Berkeley, a few days before he'd left for his medical internship on the east coast. He'd wanted to stay for Jonathan's graduation from flight school, but he couldn't delay the start date of his new job.

Steve hadn't been around when Maggie had dropped her bombshell…but he guessed she must have told him. They were friends after all. He wondered if Steve had kept in touch with Maggie over the years. He suddenly felt a morbid sense of curiosity as to what had happened to Miss Mullin. Had she married? Did she have children? Where was she?

Well he guessed Steve could fill him in when he returned to San Francisco. He'd definitely give him a call.

* * *

After breakfast Jonathan tried watching a movie, but couldn't get into the plot. The memories of his dream last night were too distracting. So he tried reading a bestseller he'd brought with him. That was no good either. At 8:30am he decided to go for a drive. 

He'd thought about going for a swim, but decided against it. He didn't feel in the mood for swimming. He drove into town, parked at the marina and decided to explore a little. He wondered if one could rent a speedboat for the day or maybe even a sailing boat.

When he'd gone sailing with A.G. and Forrest it hadn't been his boat, and he'd been a guest, so he'd sat back while Forrest had done all the navigating. It might be fun to take to the sea one afternoon. He'd always had a hankering to be captain of the seas at least once, even if it was only for an afternoon.

He went into the marina office and found an older looking white haired gentleman, probably in his mid to late 60s, sitting behind a desk.

"Can I help you?" the man asked.

"I was wondering if any of these boats are for hire." He realized he should have asked at the tourist office yesterday but the idea had never crossed his mind.

The man took out a few leaflets from one of the draws on his desk and handed them to Jonathan. "Here you go — all the details you need. You can rent a sailboat by the hour or for half a day. We also have speedboats, catamarans or you can take a group cruise on one of the yachts."

"Okay, thanks." He took the leaflets out of the man's hands. "So do I contact you to make the arrangements?"

"Yeah…all the info is in the literature."

Jonathan nodded and left. He thought he'd have a look around and walked past the yachts and boats docked in the marina. Some were very opulent and would easily accommodate a large family or group of friends. One in particular caught his notice — she was called the Sunset Princess. She was around 180 feet in length and three storeys high. He wouldn't mind taking something like that out for the day to tour the neighbouring islands.

A man came out on deck with a young boy, presumably his son. "I said no, Jonathan. You just have to accept that. I don't want you and your brother going off on your own. You can wait till your mother and I are ready to go with you."

Jonathan smiled at the sound of his name and the scene before him. It was reminiscent of one from his own childhood. He'd wanted to go to the movies with a friend from school, but his father had insisted an adult accompany them, and wanted to know all the details down to what snacks they'd be buying.

He walked away — he hadn't meant to stare and he wasn't sure if the young Jonathan had noticed him standing there or not.

He left the marina and went to get a coffee in a local café. As he sipped at his latte he studied the leaflets the guy in the office had given him. He liked the idea of hiring a sailing boat for an afternoon; he didn't really want to go on a group cruise, even if it was on one of those luxurious yachts like the Sunset Princess.

He deposited his now empty cup in the recycling bin and exited the café. He meandered around a few stores, just window shopping. He stopped in a sports shop and had an extensive look at their diving gear — it reminded him of the scuba diving trips he and Trip had been on in the Florida Keys. He was sure Trip was doing plenty of that while in the Caymans.

"Thanks," he said to the assistant who'd shown him the gear.

"Will you be buying it?" she asked.

"Not today…but thanks for your time and the information."

"You're welcome." The words and the smile that followed were fake; she was probably annoyed that after taking up over ten minutes of her precious time he wasn't going to purchase anything.

He left the store and drove back towards the villa. By the time he arrived home it was just after 11am. It was 4pm in San Francisco — a good time to contact Forrest. The business day was winding to an end, and the Admiral would probably be in an amiable frame of mind.

Jonathan had been mulling over the idea of talking to Forrest about the Illyrians for quite some time. He'd probably have brought it up on the day of the debriefing if Forrest hadn't relieved him of duty. His nightmare last night had been a kind of reminder. He couldn't just sit here and do nothing. It had been almost a week since he'd last seen Forrest — maybe now he'd be more willing to listen to suggestions.

He jumped out of the jeep and climbed up the steps to the villa. "Rebecca?" he called out.

"Out here on the balcony." He went to join her.

"Hey, you," she greeted. "How you feeling?"

"Not too bad, I guess."

"You look tired…maybe you should take a nap?"

"Nah, I'll be fine. Believe me this isn't the first time I've gone without sleep."

"Oh I'm sure it isn't. So did you buy anything in town?" When she'd gone back to bed in the early hours of the morning she'd expected to get up and find him watching movies in the living room, or out swimming in the ocean. She'd been surprised to find a hand-written note saying he was driving into Suva.

"No, just looked around. Rebecca?" He pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Yeah?"

"About my nightmare…you said something about my subconscious—"

"Playing tricks on you," she finished. "Yeah what about it?"

"What did you mean exactly?"

"Just that I'm not surprised you dreamt about your father. Last night you were saying stuff like if he was alive today he'd probably disown you."

"Right. Yeah probably would."

"You still feel that way?" she asked, surprised.

"Nothing's changed."

"I thought maybe it was just the drink speaking…I assumed in the light of day you'd see things differently."

"No."

"Look I know you can't tell me whatever it is that that's torturing you, but I don't think you should be so hard on yourself. Your father was human too, don't you think he'd do anything to save his home world?"

"Henry Archer built his engine to explore…not to go to war."

"Yes, but sometimes the unexpected happens. If he was alive today you think he'd forbid the use of his design to defend Earth? Do you honestly see him letting the Xindi attack Earth and stand by and do nothing?"

He didn't answer. She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. "You're not a bad person, Jonathan. I mean you wouldn't even let my boss pay for dinner last night — I don't know many guys who would say no to a free meal."

He knew she was trying to make light of the current situation.

"If you want you can have one of my sleeping pills tonight. I often use them when I'm changing time zones. They'll knock you out and you'll have a dreamless sleep. So don't worry about having to go through that nightmarish journey your brain took you on last night again."

"That sounds like a good idea. Thanks, Rebecca."

She smiled in response and said he was welcome. He then told her about his trip to the marina office and showed her the leaflets. She liked the idea of a sailing boat and suggested they arrange to rent one tomorrow afternoon. He agreed and said he'd make the arrangements.

He walked back into the house and sat at the desk. He'd call the marina second…first of all he had a more pressing matter to discuss with Admiral Forrest.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Redemption**

**Chapter 14**

T'Pol was busy preparing her evening meal when she heard a call coming through. She put down the knife she was chopping vegetables with and moved over to the computer screen in the living room, curious as to who would be calling at this time. She doubted it was Jonathan, he'd already called this morning.

"Good evening, T'Pol." The face of Maxwell Forrest greeted her.

"Admiral," she answered, hoping he was calling in regard to the Illyrians.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you. I wanted to call you earlier, but I've had a busy afternoon."

"It's not a problem."

"Have you heard from Jonathan today?"

"Yes, I have."

"May I ask what you discussed?"

"Nothing Starfleet related, Admiral. He wanted to know how his dog was."

"I see…so he never mentioned the Illyrians to you?"

"No, Admiral." Her curiosity was piqued. "May I enquire why you ask?"

"He contacted me this afternoon — his request was very similar to yours yesterday. "

Her eyebrow rose in surprise. "I see."

"I told him he was still off-duty and it wasn't a matter I could discuss on a non-secure line. He was calling from a vacation villa, after all. You never know who could be monitoring these kinds of transmissions."

"True," she nodded.

"I said we could discuss this upon his return and for the time being, I suggested he enjoy his vacation."

"Oh."

"T'Pol, your request yesterday…that was entirely your own idea?"

"Yes, Admiral."

"You didn't even confer with Jonathan about it?"

"No."

"But the two of you have discussed the Illyrians since your return to Earth?"

"As I informed you yesterday, Captain Archer feels guilty over his actions in regard to these people, and he's expressed that to me. That is why I was hoping we could do something to help them." She paused for a moment. "What did the captain say to you?""He wanted to talk about a way to rescue their ship, but wasn't specific. Said something about he couldn't sit idly knowing they were out there stranded and without help. Like I told you, I said I'd discuss it with him when he returned."

"I see. Have you spoken to the council members about my suggestion?"

"Not yet, I've been rather busy today."

She was a little disappointed, she'd hoped he would have convened a meeting on the matter by now.

"I'll let you know as soon as I hear something," Forrest informed her.

"That would be appreciated. Thank you, Admiral."

"I'll let you go then. Sorry to have disturbed you."

"Not at all, Admiral. I appreciate you letting me know the captain contacted you."

Forrest smiled and bid her goodnight.

She returned to the kitchen and preparing her meal. She put the rice in boiling water and covered it. She chopped up some peppers and zucchini and began to fry them.

She was glad Jonathan had contacted Forrest, obviously the vacation hadn't dulled or shut off his conscience. The first step in his recovery would be doing something pro-active in regard to the Illyrians.

If he hadn't escaped to Fiji…if Rebecca hadn't turned up…maybe they could have worked together trying to convince Forrest to organize a rescue attempt for the stranded aliens. If…

Well there was no point dwelling on ifs, Jonathan was on Fiji and she was here in San Francisco. Whatever her feelings about Rebecca…and her supposed relationship with Jonathan, it didn't negate her wish to help her captain and friend with his problem. Their problem. She continued to feel partly responsible herself, even though she'd been against the stealing of the warp coil from the moment Jonathan had told her his idea.

Fifteen minutes later she seated herself on a kitchen stool and began to eat. She recalled her morning conversation with Jonathan. She'd been taken aback by his call, and then been uncommunicative on purpose. She normally suppressed her emotions, but she'd seen no reason to hide her displeasure with him. Her first reaction had been concern — he'd looked terrible: pale, tired and drawn. When he'd told her he hadn't slept her first instinct had been to ask why not, but she'd quashed that desire. Now she pondered why — it was probably his thoughts about the Illyrians.

While they'd been in the Expanse she'd been aware of the fact that he'd been having trouble sleeping, but she'd guessed he'd messed up his circadian rhythm with all the sleepless nights pouring over the Xindi database in the Command Center. And of course there'd been the large amounts of caffeine coupled with stress.

She should have approached him then, and not allowed the situation to fester. Phlox should also have said something. Ironic how much fuss was made of Tucker over his sleeping problem and yet they'd all sat back and done nothing about what had been ailing Archer.

But that was the past…and she couldn't undo it.

She took another forkful of rice and noticed it was bland tasting. A few years ago she would have found that satisfactory, but during her time on Enterprise Chef had attempted to expand her culinary horizons, and now she yearned for something with a little more zing to it.

She stood up remembering that Jonathan kept some herbs and spices in one of the cupboards. She reached up and took out a bottle labelled garlic powder and sniffed it. It was strong smelling but if she used it in moderation it might improve the taste of her rice. Returning to her seat she sprinkled a little over her dish, then mixed it all in with her fork. Taking a mouthful she sampled it. Hmm…yes this was an improvement.

Her thoughts drifted back to this morning's conversation. She'd studied the captain's face as she'd informed him of her impromptu meeting with Steve Johnson. At first it appeared the name invoked no memory, but the moment she'd mentioned he was a doctor, it was if a light bulb had gone off in Jonathan's brain. Her instincts told her that Johnson was more than just an acquaintance.

Jonathan's displeasure at the thought of her meeting with Dr. Johnson again had not escaped her notice. Not that it was likely to happen, but why should that be of concern to him? He was involved with Rebecca, was he not? Or was it something completely different Jonathan was concerned about? Did Dr. Johnson know things about him that he didn't want T'Pol to discover?

She finished up her meal, washed the dishes and cleared up the kitchen. She brewed herself some mint tea and went over to the computer. She keyed in her security code and brought up the Starfleet database. She clicked on the search engine and typed in the words Steve Johnson. The search brought up nothing so she tried Doctor Steven Johnson and waited. Within a few seconds his record appeared on screen.

He was the same age as Archer, just as she'd supposed — both being born in 2112, though Johnson was a few months younger. He'd joined Starfleet not long after the Xindi attack on Florida. Before that he'd worked in various civilian hospitals across the country. It appeared that he'd foregone the usual Starfleet training and waiting periods, just like her. He'd been assigned to a Starfleet medical facility in Jacksonville. He'd been reassigned to Starfleet Medical in San Francisco within the last week. Perhaps he was he was returning to his roots — he'd got his M.D. at Berkeley and it stated his birthplace was Santa Cruz.

As she scanned his record she noticed something of interest — his speciality was psychiatry. Now his assignment in Florida made sense — he'd probably had his work cut out for him counselling survivors of the relatives who'd been killed.

While her discovery was interesting, it didn't tell her anything about the connection Archer had with Johnson. And she was curious. But for now she'd have to be content with what she'd learned. She turned off the computer screen, and went to watch the evening news.

* * *

Jonathan was attempting to read his book again, but to no avail. He'd keep reading the same line over and over. He slammed it shut and chucked it on the coffee table. Rebecca was watching one of her favourite weepies on the television in her bedroom, letting him have the living room to himself.

They'd stayed in for dinner — she'd cooked, despite his protests. She'd explained that she loved to cook and it relaxed her. She'd driven the jeep into town during the afternoon to pick up some ingredients and been busy in the kitchen ever since her return. She'd really outdone herself — he wondered why she hadn't become a professional chef instead of a journalist.

They'd had Chicken Marsala — she knew that was a favourite of his with broccoli, sweetcorn and new potatoes. For dessert they'd had hot apple pie with ice cream. He made sure she ate dessert along with him — he wasn't going to be the only one piling on the pounds. And that he was…he was sure he was returning to his weight before the Expanse. She'd laughed at his protests about weight gain and told him it suited him.

He'd cleaned up after dinner — he felt obligated, especially after she'd slaved for several hours in the kitchen. She'd thanked him, taken a glass of wine with her, and retired to her room to watch _Love Story_.

He'd smiled at her choice of film. They'd been to see it together at a local cinema in San Francisco on their second date. Like many of the women present she'd ended up in floods of tears and had forgotten to take any tissues with her. Jonathan luckily had a few in his pants pocket and offered them to her after spying the flowing tears down her cheek and hearing the muffled sniffs. He hadn't blamed her — it was a classic tear-jerker and even he could feel a slight lump in his throat near the end.

But it wasn't a film he could watch over and over again — he didn't see the point of depressing yourself repeatedly. Once was sufficient. So when Rebecca had said she was going to watch it tonight, he'd declined her invitation to watch it with her.

He wasn't able to concentrate on his book as his mind kept wandering back to his earlier conversation with Admiral Forrest. He felt dissatisfied. Excuses about the line not being secure, telling him to enjoy his vacation and they'd talk about it on his return — it wasn't good enough. Didn't Forrest get it?

Maybe he didn't. He'd feel differently if it had been him — if he'd been the one staring the Illyrian captain in the face trying to explain. He'd never forget the look in the alien captain's eyes.

_"What you can't have...you take by force? You're stranding us three years from home!_  
_Why are you doing this?_

The only reply he'd had for him was that he had no choice. Recalling it now it sounded lame. Had there been another way? Could he have tried something else? Maybe he should have asked the captain to take him to Degra, instead of stealing the engine. But then there would have been the risk of him saying no…

He could ponder over it endlessly, but it wouldn't change what he'd done. Even if he came up with alternate options now, what was the use? The deed was done…there was no going back.

He got off the sofa and went over to the computer. He'd do a little research on the neighbouring islands, maybe that would get his mind off the Illyrians. He'd called the marina office after speaking to Forrest and reserved a sailing boat for tomorrow afternoon.

The Mamanuca Islands caught his interest, but they'd probably be too far to visit by boat. It would be more sensible to visit those via shuttlepod. The island of Beqa looked a lot closer and he estimated they'd make it there and back within an afternoon.

He heard Rebecca's bedroom door open and glanced up. Her eyes were red and a little swollen.

"I guess the movie's over?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I don't know why I torture myself."

"Not gonna say I told you so."

"Just did, didn't you?"

"Sorry."

She walked over to him and glanced at the computer screen. "What you been researching?"

"Where we might sail to tomorrow."

"Beqa looks close by."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking."

"If we'd rented the boat for the whole day you might have been able to fit some snorkelling in."

"Sailing in itself sounds relaxing."

She smiled at him. "How you feeling?" He'd appeared a lot calmer today than the last two days. As bad as the nightmare had been, maybe it had alleviated some of his stress and tension. At dinner he'd been positively pleasant, showering her with constant compliments on her cooking. He'd even cracked a joke or two. It was like being with a different person.

"Okay."

"Did you still want those sleeping pills tonight?"

"Yeah…that would be great."

She returned to her room to retrieve the pills.

"Here you go." She handed him the bottle. "You can take two, though I think one will do the trick."

"How many do you normally take?"

"Just the one. I took two once but felt really sleepy the next day."

"Okay, thanks."

She sat down on the couch and sighed.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"I guess…just a little melancholic and contemplative. Movies like that always do that to me."

"Yeah."

"You remember my favourite line? I can't seem to get it out of my head."

He nodded. He remembered their discussion of it the first time they'd seen the film together.

"You still disagree with it?" she asked.

"Love means never having to say you're sorry," he quoted. "Sounds like romantic spiel intended to tug at the heartstrings."

"Maybe…it's a nice concept," she mused. She put her feet up on the coffee table and crossed her legs. "Jon?"

"Yes?"

"What about you and Maggie? Wasn't it like that for you two?"

"You're romanticising."

"Am not — you told me she was your first love and how at the time you couldn't imagine living without her."

"I was a romantic fool in my younger days."

"So you've become a cynic in your old age?"

"Let's just say age and experience have taught me to be realistic."

"Nothing wrong with having romantic notions, Jon."

"Romance is great for novels and movies. Real life isn't that way."

"Hmm…I guess you had no expectations for us, then?"

He'd hoped the conversation wouldn't take this turn. "Rebecca, you really want to talk about this?"

"Sure, why not? You're not going to hurt my feelings. It's all in the past. You and I had a lot of fun together, but we both agreed that it wasn't going to go anywhere and we'd be better off as friends — it was a mutual decision. I'm just curious what your thoughts were when we first met."

"Okay — I thought you were a knockout, funny, charming, intelligent and I enjoyed your company."

"Thanks for the compliments," she smiled, "but did you go in with any expectations?"

She patiently waited for his answer. After a few seconds he answered.

"Honestly? No. After Maggie — well let's just say I didn't believe in the whole happily ever after scenario for myself. And you know how it was — I ate, slept, dreamt my father's engine. There wasn't much time for anything else."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Jon, it's okay. I think I knew it anyway going in. But you were still worth taking a chance on."

"You thought you could change me?" he asked, a little surprised.

"Well a girl has to have her dreams, you know," she smiled at him, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Right…guess I did a first class job of shattering them."

"Oh don't be so serious! I'm not made of porcelain. And I wasn't some naïve 20 year old." She stood, walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I don't regret a moment we shared together, Jon. And for that I thank you." She bent down and kissed him gently on the lips.

He looked up at her, surprised.

"Jon, do me a favour, okay?"

"What?"

"Don't give up on romance. Cause you never know, there might be someone out there who will tolerate the changeable moods and those bad habits of yours."

He shrugged his shoulders in a defeated manner, seeming unconvinced.

"If you want my opinion, well I think there's a certain member of your senior crew who—"

"Rebecca—" His tone was a warning to steer away from that topic.

"Okay, okay, I won't say anything."

He knew she meant T'Pol and he was not going to have this conversation.

"Let's talk about your love life for a change," he suggested.

"Not much to tell."

"What about that guy in Rome?"

"Patrizio?"

"Yeah."

"Oh that was short-term. Can't do long distance relationships."

"Robert?"

"He got married after the Xindi attack. I guess you heard there were a lot of weddings…people getting married left, right and center."

"Heard it was catching."

"Yeah," she laughed. "It was kinda disease like."

"Who did he marry?"

"His secretary."

"Hmm…"

"Well I guess after I said no so many times to him, he asked someone who'd say yes."

"You never told me he proposed."

"Didn't I? Oh I thought I did in one of the letters I sent you while you were in the Expanse. Maybe you didn't get it. I never knew if you got any of the correspondence I sent."

"I got a couple letters…thanks. Never had the time to answer."

"It's okay."

He glanced at his watch and decided to retire for the night. It was a little after 11pm, and though it was still early for him, he hadn't slept last night and hoped to make up on a few lost hours. "I'm gonna turn in, take one of your pills and hopefully hit the hay."

"Okay, Jon. Sleep well."

She watched him walk into the bedroom and smiled to herself. She cared for him a great deal and she wanted him to be happy. She hoped one day he'd allow himself that — he deserved it.

* * *

T'Pol was awoken by a strange sensation which was decidedly unpleasant. Her eyes flew open to discover Porthos had jumped up onto the bed and had literally licked her awake!

"Get down," she scolded. The pup was frightened by the stern voice and went to cower in the corner. He was confused — this kind of behaviour had usually garnered a pat on the head or his ears getting rubbed.

T'Pol got out of bed and rushed into the bathroom. She splashed cold water onto her face and then vigorously began applying soap to her face. The idea of having Porthos salivate all over her was…to put it mildly…repulsive. She scrubbed her face for several minutes; until she was satisfied that every atom of Porthos' saliva was washed away. She rinsed her face and then applied a little face cream.

Re-entering the bedroom she noticed the quadruped huddled up in his basket. He looked frightened. She felt sorry for him — he obviously missed Jonathan, and hadn't expected such a reaction. He was probably just hungry and wanted to remind her it was breakfast time.

It had never happened before because she was usually up at the crack of dawn, and she'd been the one to wake the dog by calling him for his breakfast. Glancing at the clock she noted it was already after 8am.

She went over to Porthos, crouched down and stroked his head. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry. But the bed is off-limits, at least until your master returns."

T'Pol suddenly realized she was talking to a quadruped who possessed no language skills — something she would have scoffed at a while back. Whatever she said he wouldn't understand her. Hopefully though he'd remember her stern voice when she'd chided him for being on the bed.

She straightened up and walked into the kitchen, encouraging Porthos to follow. She prepared his breakfast and changed his water.

She turned the kettle on to make herself some tea. Opening the fridge she noticed she was running low on supplies and would need to go shopping today. She cut up a few slices of melon for breakfast, and brewed some Darjeeling tea. She remembered the brand from when she'd sampled it at the tea-room in Golden Gate Park when she'd been with Jonathan, and had purchased some. That had been a pleasant day.

If he'd stayed…maybe he could have shown her more of San Francisco. She missed him, and she hated feeling that way. He didn't deserve to be missed! Her only consolation was that he'd never know.

She sat down and sipped her tea. Today she wished Vulcans reacted to caffeine. She was feeling a bit sleepy and she could do with a pick-me-up. Inaprovaline would do the trick but she'd need to contact Phlox for that and then explain that she'd neglected to meditate last night…and she wasn't in the mood for twenty questions.

After failing to discover any connection between Johnson and Archer last night, she'd turned her attention to a more serious matter — the Illyrians. She'd become engrossed in star charts from the Expanse and had tried to map out where they might be at this time.

She knew they were travelling at impulse power, so she'd attempted to calculate the shortest route back to their homeworld. It had been around two months since they'd attacked the Illyrian ship and crew. They wouldn't have got far. If Forrest gave the go-ahead to contact the Xindi and pursue a rescue mission, she wanted to have at least some idea of the ship's location.

So she'd stayed up till after 3am, pouring over the information she gathered and making her calculations. By the time she'd realized how late it was she was too sleepy to meditate and relegated that task to the morning.

Now she felt groggy and out of focus and knew why. Hopefully it would pass after she had her shower, meditated and took Porthos for a walk. Yes, she was certain the fresh air would do her some good.

She finished up her breakfast, showered and got dressed. She then took her mat from the bedroom, placed it on the living room floor, crossed her legs and attempted to center herself.

Instead of relaxing her mind began to wander. She thought about going to the park — perhaps Dr. Johnson and Bailey would be there again. And she could ask him about Jonathan. Her curiosity was getting the better of her — her search last night had been fruitless, she wanted to know more.

As her and Jonathan had become closer she'd been interested in learning more about him — the man, not the captain. But he rarely spoke about himself or his private life. She knew a few facts here and there that he'd casually tossed her way — his friendship with A.G., dating a girl called Caroline, liking water polo and having a pet. He'd told her his father had given him an astronomy book on his 8th birthday — but that was about it.

During one of her neuropressure sessions with Trip they'd been talking about Archer and Trip had mentioned the captain's interest in poetry. T'Pol had been intrigued and asked him if he knew what kind of poetry Archer enjoyed. Trip shrugged his shoulders, answering that he'd never enquired. He only knew the captain liked to read it, and that his mother used to read him _The Tale of the Wandering Angus _to help him sleep. She'd listened with interest and after the session had logged onto the Starfleet database and read the poem for herself.

She opened her eyes and acknowledged that she wasn't going to achieve a meditative state. Best to take Porthos for his walk now — maybe she'd run into…well one never knew who might be out with a certain black Labrador.

* * *

T'Pol returned from the park feeling tired. Porthos had been so full of energy; he'd worn her out. She had a job keeping up with him. To her disappointment there'd been no sign of a black Labrador or his owner.

Porthos seemed to have expended all his energy — he took a few laps from his water bowl and padded into the bedroom for a nap.

T'Pol made some lunch and then sat down to write a shopping list. Satisfied that she hadn't forgotten anything, she slipped a jacket on and checked her reflection in the mirror. Of late, she'd had the habit of brushing her hair forward to cover her ears. It was easier this way. One she didn't want to be bothered by people asking for autographs or thanking her for saving Earth. Secondly, she was aware that there was an anti-alien feeling amongst a few humans — she'd heard about some trouble Phlox had experienced a few nights after they'd arrived back in a local bar.

Shutting the door firmly behind her, she walked down the corridor towards the elevator, checking over her list.

She normally went to the store a block from the apartment. It stocked most of what she needed — fruits, vegetables and salad ingredients. She'd hoped to find a health store nearby that might sell some of the items she needed to make plomeek broth, but nothing had turned up as of yet in her explorations. She'd probably need to make a trip down to Fisherman's Wharf to the store where she'd originally bought them.

She entered the store and took a basket; there was no need for a trolley. She proceeded to the aisle with the fruits and perused the melons on offer.

"I hear the cantaloupe's on special offer."

She looked up to discover where the voice was coming from and found herself face to face with Dr. Steve Johnson, smiling at her.

"Is it?" she answered. "I was unaware. Thank you." She picked up two cantaloupe melons and placed them in her basket.

"My pleasure. Nice to run into you again, T'Pol. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"And Porthos?"

"He is in good health for a canine. And Bailey?" she added, remembering to be polite.

"Energetic as ever."

"I spoke to Jonathan yesterday," she told him.

"Mention me?"

"I relayed your message."

"He didn't remember me did he? Suppose I can't blame him, it's been a while."

"Actually he said he did — that you were an old friend." She thought that sounded better than acquaintance.

"Did he say anything else?"

"About you — no."

"So where's he vacationing?"

T'Pol didn't see a reason why this should be a secret, he was a member of Starfleet so she trusted him. "He's in Fiji with a friend."

"Hope he's enjoying himself."

"I presume so. Dr. Johnson?"

"Please, call me Steve," he smiled.

"Do you mind if I ask how exactly you know the captain?"

"Curious, huh? Sure I don't mind. Why don't we go for a coffee and I can tell you all I know about Jonathan Archer."

All he knew? This was intriguing. "I don't drink coffee."

"Well I'm sure there's a brew of tea at the café across the street that you'd find palatable. What do you say, T'Pol?"

"I could meet you there in ten minutes. I just need to finish purchasing a few items."

"Sounds good to me. See you there." With that he strolled off, looking pleased with himself.

T'Pol completed her shopping, paid for the items and then crossed the street to join Dr. Johnson.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

**Redemption**

**Chapter 15**

T'Pol entered the café and was struck by the strong aroma of brewing coffee wafting through the air. Americans were known to be a nation of coffee drinkers — she doubted the selection of teas would be extensive. The place was busy; she squeezed past a few people huddled together near the entrance and then scanned the area looking for Dr. Johnson.

He spotted her first and called out to her. She turned in the direction of his voice and made her way over to him. A few heads had turned at the mention of her name — it certainly didn't sound human. But her being Vulcan didn't seem to cause any trouble, in fact a few people smiled at her as she walked towards the doctor.

A young girl, around seven years of age, tugged at her jacket. T'Pol stopped and looked down at her.

"You're the Vulcan lady from Enterprise?" she asked.

"Yes," T'Pol answered, in a whisper, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

"You're very pretty."

"Thank you."

"Could I have your autograph?"

T'Pol was wary of granting the wish — if she said yes to one child, more might approach her, or adults for that matter. But she didn't wish to disappoint the young girl, so agreed.

The girl took the Vulcan's hand and led her over to the table where she'd been sitting with her parents. When the couple saw whom their daughter had brought over they started to apologize. T'Pol assured them there was no need and asked for the girl's name so she could make the autograph out to her.

"Tabitha." Opening up a small pink handbag she produced a postcard with a photograph of the Enterprise crew. T'Pol recognized the picture — it had been taken a few hours before they'd left on their first mission for Qu'onos to return Klaang. "You and Captain Archer are my heroes." Tabitha continued, "I take this with me everywhere."

T'Pol turned the postcard over to the blank side, signed her name and returned it to Tabitha.

"Thank you so much!" the girl squealed with glee.

"You're welcome."

"Wait till I tell Anna about this — she'll be green with envy!"

T'Pol had no idea who she was speaking of but didn't enquire.

"She's this girl in my class," Tabitha explained. "She was acting all smug last week, going around the whole school boasting about an autograph her father had acquired from an Enterprise crewmember called Rostov. And I've got one from Enterprise's first officer, and in person!"

T'Pol wasn't quite sure how to respond to this, so didn't. "It was nice to meet you Tabitha. I'll be going over to join my friend now."

"T'Pol?"

"Yes?"

"T'Pol has to leave now, Tabitha. Her friend is waiting for her," the mother explained.

"It is all right," T'Pol answered. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Is Captain Archer your husband?"

"No," T'Pol replied, wondering how the young child had come up with such a notion. "He's my commanding officer."

"Oh." Tabitha sounded disappointed. "On the news reports I saw you standing by his side, and in photographs you are always together."

"Because I'm his first officer," T'Pol explained.

"I'm sorry," the mother said, "I have no ideas where she gets these notions from. She has such an imagination."

"It's not a problem, but I really have to go now. Nice meeting you. Goodbye, Tabitha."

The young girl bid her hero goodbye, then turned over the signed postcard to study T'Pol's signature.

T'Pol pulled up a chair and joined Dr. Johnson. "I apologize for the delay."

He smiled. "I'm in no rush. Looks like you've got yourself a fan."

"Indeed." She raised an eyebrow. "For some reason she thought Jonathan and I were married."

"Really? Interesting. Of course that'd be against Starfleet regulations, and I'm betting Jon's a stickler for those. Did she say why she thought that?"

"Because we were photographed together." She didn't comment on what he said about regulations but it made her wonder if Starfleet would be against a married couple working together on the same ship.

"I wouldn't let it concern you — probably just a childish dream."

"It doesn't," she stated.

"I'd surmise you don't care for the attention."

"Not particularly — I was concerned several people would want autographs if I granted one. Fortunately that was not the case."

"Yeah…guess it comes with the job. People do view you guys as heroes and saviours of Earth."

She didn't answer.

"Jon doesn't like it either, does he?"

His comment was interesting — a lot of humans enjoyed the limelight, and if it had been any other captain, she'd have expected them to bask in it. Jonathan probably would have tolerated it better if he'd actually felt he deserved a hero's welcome.

"Not really. How do you know?"

"Being Henry Archer's son wasn't easy. Henry's work received a lot of public notice — people knew Jonathan was the son of the famous engineer. He wanted to be treated like everyone else, but that wasn't always the case."

She was about to ask a question when he stopped her. "Let me get you something to drink first."

"Won't the waitress take our order?"

"It's self-service here. See the queue of people up by the counter?"

"Yes, I was curious as to why so many people were congregated there."

"So, what can I get you?"

She asked him what the selection was, he replied that they had English Breakfast and Earl Grey. She remembered Jonathan had chosen English Breakfast at the tea-room so decided on that, though she requested it black without sugar. Steve nodded and got up to order.

He'd probably be a while, she thought. The queue looked lengthy. He'd left a PADD on the table and she leaned over to spy what he'd been reading. It was the latest edition of the San Francisco Globe. The main headlines in the press continued to be about Enterprise's return to Earth and the destruction of the Xindi weapon.

She slid the PADD over to her side of the table and began to read. It wasn't anything confidential so she assumed Steve wouldn't mind her doing so. She'd been intrigued by the words exclusive interview and wondered who from the Enterprise crew had given one.

It was an interview with Corporal McKenzie of the MACOs. T'Pol was surprised but continued to read. There really wasn't any information that could be divulged to the press, as it was all considered classified. How could this be considered an exclusive interview?

She finished the article feeling relieved. Julia McKenzie had been as vague as possible — there were no specifics about the mission. The only constant in the article was McKenzie's continual praise of Captain Archer — ending with the comment that without him the mission would surely have failed.

T'Pol would have expected her to at least mention her own commander, Major Hayes, who'd died saving Hoshi. But there wasn't a word about him.

Steve rejoined her, handing her a large paper cup of boiling water and a tea bag. "Careful, it's hot," he cautioned.

"Thank you." She placed the tea bag in the water and let it brew.

He sipped at his coffee, blowing on it in an attempt to cool it. T'Pol handed him back the PADD. "I had a read of the article while I waited for you. I hope that's agreeable."

"Sure, no problem. Interesting article. Bit vague though. You know this McKenzie well?"

"I worked with her a few times."

"She got a crush on Jon or something?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Talk about gushing over him."

"I'm not sure why you conclude the corporal is physically attracted to the captain because she praises his work on the mission."

Steve chuckled. "You don't know human women then."

"Perhaps not," she concluded. He had a point — the two humans she'd become close to on Enterprise were both male. In the first few months aboard Enterprise she'd hoped to cultivate a friendship with Ensign Sato, but for some reason that had never materialized.

"So it's true or not?"

"Is what true?" T'Pol asked.

"That Jon's solely responsible for the mission's success — or was it more of a team effort?"

"I don't think it's appropriate for me to discuss such things in public."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I need to have a read of Jon's logs anyway, so I'll know for myself in a few days."

"You have the security clearance to do so?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Is this personal curiosity?"

"Nope — work related. My first patient next week is actually a member of your crew."

"Oh." It seemed Jonathan wasn't the only one troubled by the events in the Expanse.

"You gonna try your tea?" he asked. "I think it should have cooled down by now."

"Oh, yes." She'd forgotten about it. It was probably very strong by now — but that was of no consequence, stimulants like coffee and tea didn't have an effect on her. She removed the tea bag and had a sip.

"You aren't working this week?" she inquired.

"No, they're still getting my office ready. I start on Monday." He sipped at his coffee again. It wasn't sweet enough so he added another sachet of sugar. "I assume you know what my speciality is."

"Pardon?"

"You strike me as a curious person, T'Pol. Or is that curiosity limited to the subject of Jonathan Archer?" he teased.

She raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled back at her.

"Don't mind me, T'Pol. I noticed you didn't ask why I was seeing a member of your crew. If it was a physical ailment I doubt I'd be needing to read the captain's logs."

"I'm aware of your speciality," she admitted.

"Okay, you did your homework then. I wouldn't expect any less from Enterprise's first officer."

She drank her tea, not meeting his eyes.

"Don't be concerned, I'm not analysing you," he teased. "I don't do pro-bono work."

"You were going to tell me about Jonathan." She wished to remind him of the reason for their meeting.

"Ah, your favourite subject."

"He's not—"

"Defensive and curious, huh?"

"The same could be said of you — you've asked me several questions about him."

"True, though it's a human trait. Is it a Vulcan one?"

"At times."

"Okay, no more teasing. So tell me, did Jon ever get hitched?"

"Hitched?"

"As in married."

"No. Most Starfleet captains are unmarried."

"Not all. Take Captain Ramirez — he's married with 2 kids."

The name sounded familiar; then she remembered he was the captain of the Intrepid who'd welcomed them back to Earth when they'd returned after the first Xindi attack.

"His assignments don't take him far from Earth. I would assume he has time to spend with his family."

"Perhaps…still I'm surprised about Jon. I presumed he'd have tied the knot by now."

"Why?"

"Cause the Jonathan Archer I knew was a big believer in marriage. He didn't strike me as the kind of guy who'd end up alone. It seemed to be something he wanted. But you say he's in Fiji with a friend — would this friend happen to be of the female persuasion?"

"I thought I was the one who was going to be asking all the questions."

"Well how about an equal exchange of info, T'Pol? Come one, it's obvious we're both curious about a mutual friend. You can fill me in on his present, and I'll share some insight on a young man I knew 18 years ago."

T'Pol did some quick math in her head. "He was only 24 when you knew him?"

"Yeah, about that. Last I saw him was a few days before he graduated from flight school."

"Why do you conclude he wished to marry?" she asked.

"You didn't answer my last question."

"Oh the friend in Fiji. Yes, she's female. She's a former girlfriend of his. I believe the captain is rekindling his relationship with her. At least it appears that way."

"Interesting. Wonder what she's like."

"Will you answer my question now?"

"Okay. When I knew Jon he was very much in love with this girl. He planned to marry her. I even helped him pick out an engagement ring. I'd never seen anyone so head over heels. I used to joke that the two of them were joined at the hip."

"What happened?"

"I got my internship on the east coast and couldn't stay for his graduation. We said our goodbyes at the shuttleport, and he told me he was gonna pop the question that night. I assumed she'd said yes, and didn't give it another thought. I was busy with getting settled in New York. A week passed and I heard nothing from him…my first thought was maybe they'd eloped and were off honeymooning somewhere. I tried getting in touch with Jon, but he never answered any of my calls. So then I tried getting in touch with Maggie—"

"That was her name?"

"Yeah, that's what we all called her. Her full name was Margaret Mullin."

"So what happened?"

"I was able to reach her roommate in the end who informed me Maggie had moved to Denver. I was sure it had something to do with Jon. I was worried about him…if she'd refused him, which was something he hadn't even contemplated, I assumed he'd be in bad shape."

He'd been about to continue when his communicator went off. "Excuse me," he told T'Pol as he answered.

T'Pol could hear a female voice on the other end and remembered that she'd read in his Starfleet record that he was married. It was probably his wife.

"Looks like I'll have to cut our meeting short, T'Pol. I'm needed at home."

"Of course, that's understandable."

"If you like we could continue this another time, maybe over dinner?"

She felt a little uncomfortable at his suggestion especially since he was a married man.

"I know my wife would love to meet you," he added.

"Oh dinner at your house?"

"Yes of course, T'Pol. Why did you think I was trying to entice you into some clandestine rendezvous?" He winked at her.

"Not at all," she stoically replied.

"Great — we'll have to arrange something. How can I contact you?"

"I'm staying at Jonathan's apartment while he's gone. You can reach me there."

"Okay great." He got from the table, apologized again for having to rush off and left.

T'Pol finished her tea, mulling over what she'd learnt.

* * *

Jonathan opened his eyes lazily, yawned and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It was 10:30am — he'd been in bed for almost 12 hours! Rebecca's sleeping pill had sure done its job!

He stretched and yawned again, then climbed out of out bed. He stumbled into the bathroom, turned on the shower and got in under the spray. He felt a little groggy but didn't mind. He'd had a dreamless sleep, and for that he was grateful.

He slipped on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and went to find Rebecca. She wasn't in the house, so he went out on the balcony. He spied her lying on the beach, sunbathing. He went back into the house and ate a bowl of muesli, washed down with a cup of coffee.

As soon as the caffeine had worked its way into his bloodstream he felt more awake and decided a swim would be fun. He changed into a pair of swimming trunks, took a fresh towel from the bathroom cupboard and jogged down to the beach.

"Morning!" he greeted Rebecca.

She opened her eyes, shielding them from the sun. "Morning yourself. Sleep well?"

"Like a baby! That pill knocked me out."

"Glad to hear that. You going for a swim?" she asked, noticing his attire.

"Yeah. Wanna join me?" He asked noting that she was wearing a one-piece red swimsuit.

"I can watch you from here.""What's the fun in that? You came all the way to Fiji and you aren't even gonna try the waters out? I promise we'll stay in the shallow area."

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed.

He offered his hand to help her get up and led her to the water's edge. She dipped her toe in to test the temperature. "It's warm."

"Oh yeah, we're in the tropics, remember?" he laughed. "Come on," he encouraged, leading her by hand into the slightly deeper water. Soon it was up around their waists. Rebecca slipped on a random pebble on the normally sandy seabed, but Jonathan caught her. "Steady now."

"I'm fine."

This reminded him of when T'Pol had slipped at the scenic point overlooking the Golden Gate. He'd caught her in his arms just as he had Rebecca now. He'd held her close, not wanting to let go…wanting to press his mouth to hers and taste her honey-like lips again.

He imagined T'Pol with him now, decked out in a one-piece black suit or maybe dark green to compliment her olive complexion. Did she even know how to swim? He would have loved to teach her. How wonderful it would be to feel her arms around his neck if she slipped or if the water was too deep for her to stand up. He'd hold her and keep her safe.

"Jon, why have we stopped?"

"Hmm?"

"The water's only at my waist, I think we could go a little further."

"Oh right, sure."

They ventured out until the water reached Rebecca's shoulders. "This deep enough for you?" Jonathan asked her.

"Yeah, any further and I won't be able to touch the bottom.""Okay, try swimming back to shore then."

"You coming?"

"I'll be right behind you," he assured her.

"That wasn't as hard as I expected," she said as they reached shallower waters.

"What did I tell you? If you feel confident enough we could go snorkelling tomorrow."

"Doesn't that entail swimming in water where I can't touch the bottom?"

"Yeah…but I'd be with you. Don't you trust me to protect you?"

"Sure Jon, but I'd be too nervous to enjoy it."

"Okay, no pressure."

Rebecca wandered back onto the beach while Jonathan said he was gonna swim a bit longer. He went out even further than before, enjoying the exercise.

T'Pol and the Illyrians — they were two constants he couldn't get out of his brain. If he wasn't agonizing over his guilt then he was fantasizing about his first officer. He didn't have much hope of eradicating his guilt, but he needed to work on his longing for T'Pol.

He missed her. He missed the sound of her voice, her logical reasoning, he even missed when she was annoyed at him, raising her eyebrow at him in a sign of disapproval.

Rebecca was good company, and she'd been patient with his moods and irritability…but she wasn't T'Pol. Oh, he couldn't think about this now!

He turned and swam back to shore. Tired from his swim he lay down on his towel next to Rebecca and closed his eyes. Within a few minutes he was sound asleep.

* * *

_"Jonathan."_

_He opened his eyes and looked around. He was alone. There was no sign of Rebecca and the beach was completely deserted._

_"Jonathan," the familiar voice called out to him again. . _

_He stood up, and walked over to the house. Standing on the balcony was a beautiful woman in a white flowing dress._

_"T'Pol," he whispered. She was here — she'd come. _

_They walked towards each other and met at the bottom of the steps to the beach. He gathered her up in his arms and kissed her. Soon she was kissing him back with an intensity that quickened the pace of his heart and made him weak at the knees. _

_"I've missed you so much," he told her._

_"You need me, Jonathan. I tried telling you that two years ago. When will you listen?"_

_"I'm listening now, sweetheart, I'm listening…" he whispered as he kissed her neck. _

_"Let's go inside," she suggested, and taking his hand led him to the bedroom. They sat on the edge of the bed, T'Pol tenderly kissing his neck. She pushed him back onto the pillows, and kissed him on the forehead, his closed eyelids, his cheeks and then gently on his lips. _

_"Tell me you believe me."_

_He opened his eyes. "I believe you, T'Pol."_

_"Will you let me help you?" _

_"Yes," he answered._

_"You'll never doubt me again?"_

_"Never."_

_"I love you, Jonathan."_

_He felt his heart swell at the words — words he thought he'd never hear spoken from her lips. He was consumed with the feeling of indescribable joy, and then sensual pleasure as she trailed kisses down his chest and stomach._

_"T'Pol," he gasped._

"Jonathan?"

That wasn't T'Pol's voice. His eyes flew open and he sat up to find Rebecca staring at him with a bemused expression.

"Must have been some dream."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied, deciding not to embarrass him.

"Do you have any water?" he asked, feeling thirsty. He felt restless and pent up…the dream had felt so real. Moments ago he could have sworn he was lying on a bed with T'Pol kissing him. Recalling it now it felt more like a memory than a dream.

That night, a week ago when he'd been drunk and found T'Pol outside his apartment — had something happened he couldn't recall? When she'd tried to leave he'd stopped her, slamming her against a wall and kissing her. His memory ended there. T'Pol had said he'd gone to his bedroom and fallen asleep. Had T'Pol given him an abridged version of events? Was that the reason this dream he'd just experienced felt more like a memory?

"Sorry, I don't," Rebecca replied. "I can go up to the house and get some."

"It's okay, I'll go. I need to get ready for our afternoon sail."

Rebecca checked her watch. It was almost midday and they'd booked the sailing boat for 1:30pm.

"Yeah me too. Do you want to eat something before we leave or should I make something we can eat on the boat?"

"I'll make something for a change, and we can eat it on the boat. You're always preparing the food."

"Cause I enjoy it, Jon. And no arguments, okay?"

"All right," he agreed. "But something simple will be fine."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" she laughed.

He gave her a half-smile, picked up his towel and returned to the house.

After he left she sighed. He'd called out to T'Pol while dreaming on the beach. If he was in love with the Vulcan why wasn't he with her? It didn't make sense…he probably hadn't told the Vulcan how he felt. He was such a stubborn fool at times!

She folded up her towel and walked towards the villa, planning out a succulent dish that she'd whip up for lunch.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

**Redemption **

**Chapter 16**

Jonathan climbed aboard the sailing boat and offered his hand out to Rebecca. She was decked out in a sailing outfit; she looked cute. She'd said it would put her in the mood.

"So who's the captain of this vessel?" she asked as she stepped aboard. She'd been sailing many times as a child; her father had owned a sailing boat, which had been docked in Santa Cruz. She'd spent many a Sunday afternoon sailing up and down the California coastline.

"Guess experience as a starship captain doesn't count, huh?"

"You can be first officer for a change," she smiled.

Her comment made him immediately think of T'Pol. His dream earlier on the beach had been so vivid. Boy, was he tired of dreaming — either his mind tormented him with nightmares of an Illyrian courthouse or taunted him with amorous visions of a beautiful Vulcan. He was seriously considering taking another of Rebecca's pills tonight. They'd done the trick last night; his sleep had been dreamless.

"I say something wrong?" she inquired.

"Pardon?"

"You went all quiet. Instead of staring into space maybe you could untie the ropes and we can get this bucket moving. We only have it for the afternoon."

"Yeah, right," he answered, awakening from his thoughts. "Sorry."

Ten minutes later they were sailing out of Suva en-route for Beqa. Rebecca was at the helm, sailing them in a southerly direction. It was a perfect day for sailing. The seas were calm and there was a gentle wind that pushed them in the direction of their destination.

Jonathan explored the boat. It was a nice vessel though it had a corny name — _True Love_. He wondered if the previous owners had been some madly in love couple who'd named it that, and then they'd got divorced sold it to the marina office to be used as a rental. Or was that just his cynical side? More than likely…

He unpacked the lunch Rebecca had prepared and set it out on the small table at the bow of the boat. She'd brought a container of passion fruit iced tea as well so he poured some into two glasses.

"You gonna put it on autopilot and come eat lunch?" he called to her.

"Yeah, be there in a minute," she answered.

Jonathan sat down at the table. Feeling peckish he bit into one of the sandwiches she'd prepared. It was actually a large turkey tortilla wrap with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, cheese and mayo — delicious!

Rebecca joined him and picked something out for herself. "Remember to leave room for the potato salad and dessert of course."

"I don't know where you found the time to make all this."

"I work best under pressure," she answered, smiling at him.

"You look like a young girl in that hat and sailor suit."

"Thanks!"

She put some coleslaw on her plate and had a sip of her iced tea. "Jon, can I ask you something?"

Hmm…why did he have a feeling he wasn't going to like this? "Okay, but I can't promise I'll answer."

"The night before when I woke you up from the nightmare, you kept repeating the words they're innocent and it's not their fault. Do you know what you were talking about?"

"Oh…that. I'd rather not talk about it." That meant he did know.

"I think I know why your father appeared in your dream — our subconscious often releases our worst fears through dreams. And even though your father is dead, one of your worst fears is that he'd consider you a failure."

"Rebecca—"

"No, hear me out. I'm doing my Dr. Freud bit here," she smiled.

"Uh oh. Since when have you been so interested in psychology?"

"It's a fascinating subject. You should read up on it." He didn't answer. "So what did these people who were innocent and your father have in common in the dream?"

"They didn't. It was a court scene. Let's leave it at that."

"You were in court because of something you'd done in the Expanse? You told me the other night that you had to shut off your conscience to accomplish the mission."

"I did? Boy, remind me not to get drunk again."

"I already told you that you didn't divulge anything top secret, so don't worry. But whatever it is you did, it's bothering you."

"I think we established that. Do you know this conversation is beginning to sound like a broken record?"

"Jon, what you gonna do? Rely on sleeping pills the rest of your life?"

"Maybe."

"That's hardly a solution."

"Rebecca, I don't know. The nightmare may have been a one off. Who's to say I'll dream of it again?"

"Because whatever you did makes you feel guilty. Until you forgive yourself and move on, your subconscious has to deal with that guilt. One way of doing that is through dreams."

"That's only a theory."

"Well I'm just sharing what I've learned. If you don't want to talk to me about it, you might want to consider—"

"Just don't say shrink."

"You allergic to the word?" she asked, trying to be funny.

"No, just the idea."

"Okay, I'll drop it. For your sake I hope you don't have any more nightmares. If you're interested, I've got a great book back at the villa on dream interpretation."

"No thanks."

That was that. He was a stubborn mule! Next time he tossed and turned and called out in the throes of a nightmare maybe she wouldn't wake him up. What could one do with a person who was suffering but didn't want help?

"Have you spoken to T'Pol since we arrived?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I called her yesterday morning, to check on Porthos."

"That the only reason?"

"Yes, Rebecca. That was the only reason." His tone was adamant.

"You're very touchy on that subject aren't you?"

"I don't care for discussing T'Pol if you're going to make assumptions and see things that aren't there."

"Jon, I'm not blind. And I know you. Can I ask why you never told her how you felt? Is it Starfleet regs?"

"You didn't hear a word I said!" His chair screeched as he got up from the table hurriedly, throwing his napkin on the plate.

"Jon!"

It was no use; he was in one of his moods again. He'd walked to the stern and was gazing out onto the water with his back to her.

She finished up her lunch, then went back to the helm and turned off the autopilot. As he saw her approaching he mumbled something about seeing land and he was going to get his binoculars. She didn't answer.

She was well aware of his feelings for his first officer. She didn't care how many times he denied it. She'd known Jonathan was attracted to the stoic Vulcan from the minute he'd met her. Two days before Enterprise's initial launch and mission to return Klaang to Quo'nos she'd had lunch with Jonathan. He'd returned from Brazil that morning, with his communications officer in tow, Hoshi Sato.

It was their goodbye lunch, she knew he'd be too busy getting Enterprise ready for launch to see her any other time. She'd be there for the ceremony but she doubted he'd have time for any personal goodbyes. Jonathan bemoaned the Vulcans for most of their lunch, speaking with gritted teeth about Soval and his cohorts. Then he'd become extremely animated describing a Vulcan woman whom he'd said he'd almost knocked on her ass. Rebecca had been intrigued. This woman had obviously got under his skin.

He'd talked about this woman's arrogant and superior attitude. He'd had about all he could stomach from her and her kind.

"And you won't believe what news I was greeted with getting off the shuttle from Brazil," he continued excitably.

"No I can't imagine," Rebecca replied.

"Forrest was waiting for me and he didn't look happy. I knew something was up and I smelled Vulcans all over it. Those people just can't keep their noses out of anything."

"So, what was this news?"

"She's assigned to my ship."

"What?"

"That's right. I was as shocked as you are. That snide, arrogant, superior, cynical, thinks-she-knows-it-all Vulcan of a woman is being assigned to my ship." He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "Forrest tells me I have to make her my first officer — I'm sure Trip will be thrilled."

"I'm sure Trip will welcome her with as much enthusiasm as you. Oh boy, wonder if she knows what she's letting herself in for?"

"She knows."

"Jon, does she have any redeeming qualities? Or you just gonna go into this with your Vulcan blinkers on?"

"Rebecca—"

"Why don't you give her a chance?"

"Whose side are you on? If it weren't for these people—"

"Jon, don't get yourself all in knots. I know how you feel and I do sympathise. I know you feel they held your father back. But you can't take out all your anger on this one Vulcan. I mean she's not directly responsible for what happened to your dad, is she?"

"Since when did you become the advocate for Vulcans?"

"I'm not. But I'm appealing to your better judgement. Don't take your anger out on her. I bet she's probably as happy as you are about this whole thing."

Jonathan wasn't listening. "I wouldn't be surprised if she orchestrated the whole damn transfer just so she could worm her way under my skin even further. She wants to see where my breaking point is. Well woman or not, if she gets out of line—"

"She'll experience the almighty wrath of Captain Archer. I get the picture." She sighed. "Jon, look at the bright side, at least she's a woman."

"What?" he snapped. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well she's young isn't she? I mean for a Vulcan. Is she pretty?"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"She must be. You didn't answer my question."

"I thought you were supposed to be my friend. I vent my feelings and the only response I get is you asking if I'm attracted to this woman."

"I never said a word about attraction." Rebecca's lips curled up into an amused smile. "Jon, you're so transparent."

"If the situation was reversed, you'd be livid. What if your boss assigned you to work with David Lawson on an assignment?"

"Oh I can't stand the guy — you know that. He's such an arrogant ass. But I won't deny he's good looking."

"I give up," he sighed.

"Jon, I'm just having a bit of fun. Lighten up. And look on the bright side — you'll probably have a very efficient first officer."

Yes, Rebecca thought, he'd probably been attracted to T'Pol from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. When he'd actually fallen in love with her was a mystery. She surmised it had to have been during the first two years of their mission, before the Xindi attack.

What she couldn't work out was why Jonathan hadn't said anything. It was either Starfleet regulations or maybe he felt T'Pol didn't return his feelings. Was he scared of rejection? Perhaps he still bore the scars of Margaret's refusal. But that was years ago…

She sighed. She wanted to help but every time she tried Jonathan blocked every attempt. Maybe it was time to back off and just enjoy the vacation. Keep the conversations light hearted and stick to small talk.

He returned to the helm and she asked to borrow the binoculars to have a look herself. She asked him to hold the wheel.

"We should be there in about twenty minutes," she noted.

"Yeah."

"Anything in particular you'd like to do once we get there?"

"Have a general look around, I guess. Unless you have something in mind?"

"No, that sounds okay." She returned the binoculars to him. "I'm sorry I made you angry earlier. But you must know what I said was with the best of intentions."

"I know, Rebecca. I'd rather not discuss it, that's all."

"Okay," she shrugged. She returned to the helm and navigated the boat into the harbour.

* * *

They spent about two hours on the island before returning to the boat. They walked along the beach, then took an inland trail, which lead to a lagoon and waterfall. Rebecca started to hum the song _Bali Ha'i_ from the musical _South Pacific_ and Jonathan found himself joining in. 

They took a different trail back to the harbour, though lush undergrowth, palm trees and exotic plants. They passed a few other waterfalls on the way. One of them reminded Jonathan of Multnomah Falls in Oregon, which he'd visited on a school trip. He'd returned to the Columbia River Gorge and the falls several years later with Maggie. Come to think of it, Steve Johnson had joined them on that trip with his sister.

Maggie and Steve were in medical school together and spent a lot of the evenings studying for finals. Jonathan had done his best to entertain Steve's sister, telling her stories from his Stanford days and the tough regime of flight school. She'd smiled and listened, probably being polite.

In the end, they'd cajoled the two medical students into putting their books away and going out for a few beers. It had been a lot of fun. Steve had a great sense of humor and made everyone roar with laughter. And he couldn't wait to tell them all about how Maggie had almost blown up the lab in Berkeley by mixing the wrong chemicals in an experiment.

Funny how one waterfall could bring back memories long forgotten.

"You okay?" Rebecca asked.

"Sure. You having a good time?"

"Yeah…I feel like I'm in the jungle and we'll come across some lost tribe any minute," she laughed.

They returned to the harbor and decided to go for a drink before sailing back. They picked an ocean side bar. Jonathan had a strawberry daiquiri and Rebecca chose a non-alcoholic pina colada; she assumed she'd be the one at the helm on the return trip.

"You miss Enterprise?" she asked, as her drink was served.

"Yeah…keeps me busy."

"You never miss Earth when you're up there exploring the heavens?"

"Not really. It's what I always wanted to do."

"So where do you see yourself in ten years time?"

"This sounds like a job interview," he teased.

"Just curious, Jon. You always said you didn't want to be stuck behind a desk, so I can't see you becoming an Admiral."

"I can't either, but who knows?" Her mention of the admiralty made him wonder what Forrest would have said if he'd consulted him on the decision to attack the Illyrians before he did it. Would he have authorized it? He'd thought about it, but decided against it. Why should another person share in his guilt?

"I'd love to go back to exploring," he continued.

"When will Enterprise be ready?"

"Last I heard she'll be undergoing repairs for at least another 6 weeks."

"And then?"

"I hope we can pick up where we left off before the whole Xindi affair."

Rebecca raised her glass and offered a toast. "To Captain Archer, the explorer."

He smiled. He raised his glass to hers and they clinked them together.

"What's on the horizon for you?" he asked.

"I think it's time for some changes. I don't seem to have the energy and enthusiasm for this job like I used to. I'd like to return to the same house or apartment at the end of the day. I'm tired of a different hotel room every night. And the travelling…well it was fun for a long time, but now I'd just like to settle down."

"That's understandable."

"Is it, Jon? You never wanted to settle down."

He smiled. "I've got too much of the explorer in me to settle down."

"You think so? Or was it that you never met the right woman?"

"Oh that kind of settling down — tying the knot and all? I thought you just meant getting your own place. " He'd avoided her question on purpose.

"I meant both."

"So why did you refuse Robert?"

"Simple — I didn't love him."

"You going to try and settle in San Francisco?" he asked, after a brief silence.

"I don't know. I think a completely fresh start might be in order. I have a hankering to live in DC."

"Well plenty going on there."

"Yup. So…think you'll ever get married, Jon?"

"I doubt it. Having a wife and exploring the stars hardly go hand in hand."

"I guess not." She glanced at her watch and announced that they should finish up their drinks and get a move on.

* * *

The sail back to Suva was spectacular. The sky had turned into several different shades of red and orange. Jonathan sat by her, making small talk as they made their return journey. 

Every now and then she'd steal a glance at him. He looked so handsome. The extra weight looked good on him, as did the tan. He looked amazing in white; he was dressed in a white collarless shirt and matching white pants.

"Something wrong?" Jonathan asked.

"No, why?"

"You keep looking in my direction."

"I was thinking how well you look. I'm glad you've been eating well, those extra pounds make all the difference."

"Hmm…well I'm not gonna overdo it, however many desserts you put before me."

She smiled back at him, thinking back to the first time she'd met him. She'd been interested in him from the moment she'd laid eyes on him. She'd heard about Commanders Robinson and Archer being temporarily suspended for taking out the NX-Beta and had been intrigued to meet the two of them, smelling a potential story. She'd set up an appointment with them and the three of them had met up at a cosy Italian restaurant in Ghiradelli Square.

Before going to the meeting she'd done a little research, checking out their profiles and what other information was available to the general public on Starfleet commanders. She's seen a mugshot of Archer and thought him handsome. However, meeting him in person was an entirely different matter.

She'd been sat at the table waiting for her interviewees to arrive. Archer had walked in first, followed by A.G. He was out of uniform, wearing a pair of old jeans, and a white shirt, open at the neck. She practically ignored A.G., as her eyes followed Archer across the room. He was tall, with short dark blonde hair. His face was striking, and he walked with an air of confidence.

The Maitre'd had shown both of them to Rebecca's table. Jonathan had held out his hand to her and she'd had her first glimpse of those luminescent, hypnotising green eyes.

"Commander Jonathan Archer."

"Pleased to meet you, Commander. I'm Rebecca Summers."

"I'd assumed as much." Jonathan flashed his trademark smile. Rebecca knew she had to watch out with this one — he was quite the charmer!

A.G. introduced himself as well, and they all sat down. Rebecca felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush. For most of the meal she just couldn't keep her eyes off Archer, and felt bad for neglecting A.G. To compensate she'd throw him a question now and then, but most of the time her attention was focused primarily on the gorgeous Commander Archer.

Jonathan had never made the first move with her — she'd had several more interviews with both of them and a few alone with him to get her piece written. After it was published she didn't hear from him. She didn't normally chase men; it was usually the other way around. But Archer was one she wasn't gonna let slip through the cracks. So one evening she'd called him up and asked him out. To her relief, he'd said yes.

She recalled the night he'd accompanied her to an award ceremony. She'd won for writing the article about him and A.G. He looked dashing in a tux, and she'd been keenly aware of the other women in the room admiring him as they entered.

She smiled recalling the memory. They'd had some great times together and she'd never forget them. But she knew they were better off as friends — their busy schedules had always got in the way of their relationship. But that hadn't been the only obstacle.

Early on in the relationship she acknowledged it wasn't going to progress. He was a man married to his dream…exploration and the fulfilment of his father's dream. She accepted that. And when a job offer in Australia came her way, she didn't hesitate to take it. She didn't worry about him; he'd never really needed her.

She'd been in love with him, but known that would never be enough. She wasn't going to drop everything and become a Starfleet officer just to be with him. The emotion had been powerful and intense to begin with, but as time passed it mellowed into deep caring and concern.

She still thought he was one of the most attractive men she'd ever known — that would never change. He got better looking as he got older. But friendship was all she wanted from him. She liked it that way. She was glad they'd ended their romance on a positive note and kept in touch over the years. They were both a part of each other's lives, neither one of them could ignore that.

And now as his friend she wanted him to be happy. She wanted him to deal with whatever guilt was plaguing him and move on. And she was certain there was more to his relationship with T'Pol than met the eye. She wondered if there was any way she could find out for sure.

* * *

The sun set just as they docked in the marina. They disembarked and walked towards the marina office. 

Two young boys were running down the path in Rebecca and Archer's direction. It looked like they were racing each other. One of them tripped. What looked like the older boy returned to make sure the younger one was okay.

Jonathan helped the young boy up. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

The boy looked familiar; then he remembered — this was the young Jonathan from the yacht the _Sunset Princess._ "Just be careful. I don't think running around here is very safe." The boy nodded. The older one and he walked away in the direction of the yacht.

"I remember him from the other day…his name's Jonathan," he told Rebecca.

"How do you know?"

"When I was here the other day I heard his father call him that."

"Oh."

They returned the boat's documentation and keys to the marina office. With everything in order, they walked to the car.

Jonathan offered to drive back as Rebecca had done most of the sailing today. She asked if he felt sober, and he answered that his daiquiri had been weak and he felt fine. He suggested they pick up some pizza for dinner on the way home. She agreed. As much as she loved to cook she was feeling a bit tired tonight.

They left the pizza place with their orders and returned to the car. "Thanks for everything today, Rebecca. I had a good time."

"I'm pleased to hear. I was beginning to feel guilty for dragging you out here."

"You didn't drag me. I came of my own volition. Besides, I think it was for the best."

"What do you mean it was for the best?" Rebecca asked.

"Oh nothing."

"Jon, please don't clam up again. You obviously meant something by it. I hate it when someone says something and then doesn't explain."

"It got Admiral Forrest off my back," he answered after a few moments. That hadn't been what he meant — he'd been referring to T'Pol and how going away with Rebecca would make her think they were involved. He'd made the mistake of speaking his thoughts aloud.

"Admiral Forrest wanted you to take a vacation?" she asked, puzzled.

"That's it in a nutshell."

The answer was unsatisfactory but she didn't question him further. He'd only become defensive.

They arrived back at the villa and dug into their pizzas. They cleared up and then decided to watch an old movie in the database. By the time the film finished it was 11pm and Rebecca bid him goodnight, saying it had been a long day and she felt tired.

"Sweet dreams," he answered. Then he wondered about his own sleep tonight. Should he ask Rebecca for a pill? If she gave him one it would probably come along with a lecture on how he couldn't rely on them. He decided against it, he'd chance it. He'd only had one nightmare. What was the probability that he'd have another one?

He turned off the TV and went to prepare for bed. He'd have his answer soon enough.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

**Redemption**

**Chapter 17**

Two days had passed since she'd seen Steve Johnson. That was not a vast amount of time but T'Pol was anxious to learn more about Jonathan's past. Steve appeared to be an excellent source of the information she sought. The doctor had not contacted her about dinner. She checked the computer for messages every time she returned from an errand or taking Porthos for a walk.

She did briefly wonder if the captain would appreciate her digging into his past. But she concluded that since Steve was Jonathan's friend, he wouldn't betray a confidence. Besides, her and Archer were friends. The subject of Margaret Mullin had never come up because she'd never enquired of his past relationships. When Jonathan had told her about Caroline, he hadn't instructed her to keep it a secret. She assumed the same was true with Steve Johnson and the subject of Margaret.

The whole story fascinated her — a young Jonathan Archer, madly in love and then painfully heartbroken. Had his experience so many years ago influenced his view of relationships in general? Could this explain why he'd pulled away from her?

She'd thought it was his guilt…now she was curious if the damage inflicted so many years ago had anything to do with it. She wished Steve hadn't been interrupted by that call. She'd wanted him to finish the story. All she knew was that Maggie had moved to Denver but none of the details as to why Archer had been refused…if that's indeed what had happened.

Maybe he'd backed out at the last minute and decided not to propose after all. Perhaps it was Miss Mullin who'd been in possession of a broken heart and left the city because of that.

She also had another theory floating around in her head. All this time she'd thought Rebecca and Archer were trying to rekindle an old romance. Instead it could be that Archer still harboured feelings for his first love, and had never properly recovered from the break-up.

Was it possible for a human man to love someone this long? Why hadn't Margaret wanted to marry him? Why hadn't Jonathan gone after her to Denver? Or maybe he had, but Steve hadn't had time to tell her that part of the story.

Her questions and suppositions were aplenty.

There was always one way to find out — she could just ask Archer directly. The temptation to do so was there, but she did not wish to incur his wrath or annoyance. On his return, if she felt brave, she could attempt to breach the subject.

She turned the computer screen off and got up from the desk. She'd returned from a shopping expedition a few moments ago and had checked for messages as soon as she'd shut the door behind her.

She'd become accustomed to wearing casual Earth clothes and had purchased a few items this very morning. She found them rather comfortable in comparison to the uniforms she'd worn aboard Enterprise. Now that she was to become an official member of Starfleet, she was looking forward to wearing the navy jump suit just like Jonathan and Trip did.

She walked over to the living room window and stared out onto the city of San Francisco.

There'd been no messages. She'd also expected to hear from Admiral Forrest by now in regard to his decision on helping the Illyrians. She feared his answer was going to be no. What would she do then? She'd have to think about other avenues of help.

Being alone so much gave her a lot of time to think. She wished she'd spoken of her idea to help the Illyrians to Jonathan before he'd left for Fiji. Maybe they could have brainstormed together. Working on a solution to the problem would at least have distracted him from his constant bad moods and drowning in a bottomless ocean of guilt.

Hindsight was useless.

He'd been gone five days — it felt more like a month. He wouldn't return for another nine days. Being true to herself, she acknowledged that his absence was painful. Time normally passed for her at the same rate. The last few days it had crawled. Staying in his apartment only served to keep her musings focused on him.

Jonathan was never far from her thoughts. When she walked Porthos she thought of him. When she laid in his bed at night and stared up at the ceiling she recalled that night they'd almost…and pondered what would have happened if he'd been sober.

She wondered what would have happened if they hadn't met the Illyrians…if the Xindi had never attacked Earth, if their entire mission to the Expanse had all been a bad dream. How different things might have turned out.

Hindsight was a waste of valuable time.

Steve had said that Jonathan was her favourite topic of discussion — he wasn't far from the truth.

Last night her and Phlox had been to dinner again. Most of the evening had been spent discussing the captain. They'd talked about how they might try again to persuade him to get professional help before taking up command of Enterprise again. She'd asked Phlox if he thought the captain was fit to command. The doctor couldn't answer without doing a full psychological evaluation and doubted the captain would comply. T'Pol had suggested they speak to Forrest about it. The admiral could order him, making it mandatory.

T'Pol had also told the doctor a little about Steve Johnson. She hadn't mentioned anything about Margaret Mullin; merely that Johnson was a psychiatrist and an old friend of Archer's. Perhaps the captain could be persuaded to get some help from an old friend. Phlox had thought this an excellent suggestion. If anything at least Dr. Johnson could attempt to get the psychological evaluation done.

Phlox had also inquired as to her well being. He said she seemed sad for a Vulcan. She denied it, though secretly agreed with the doctor. She had felt a tad melancholic these past few days. In time she would adjust. Maybe her feelings for Jonathan would fade into the background, and wouldn't cause her to feel what Phlox described as sad.

Loving someone and not being able to be with them was difficult. Acknowledging that there would never be anything between this person and you — not an easy task either. She recited an endless list of reasons as to why a relationship with Jonathan would have been highly impractical but it didn't elevate her mood.

She imagined what it would be like back on board Enterprise. They'd work together; eat together, and revert back to the comfortable status quo of first officer and captain. What it had always been and would always be.

Off-duty they'd continue to be friends. Friendship: it didn't satisfy her anymore. She wanted more.

She felt something rub against her legs and glanced down. It was Porthos. She crouched down and stroked his head. Had he sensed her mood? She'd heard Jonathan say something about how intuitive animals could be.

Tired of thinking about the captain, she decided to occupy her mind with something distracting. She'd gone to bed late last night, having stayed up reading a book she'd found on Jonathan's bookshelf: _Jane Eyre_. She'd scanned the back cover to see what the plot entailed and it had piqued her interest. She didn't posses detailed knowledge of 19th century Earth or its customs, and thought this might enlighten her.

It wasn't a book she'd expected him to have, but perhaps he enjoyed romantic classic literature. At first the author's language was a little difficult to master; it was apparent it had been written over 300 years ago. Once she'd covered the first few chapters she became more accustomed to the words used, finding herself engrossed in the plights of the orphan girl, Jane.

She'd stayed up reading into the early hours of the morning, finding herself almost as intrigued by the character of Edward Rochester as the book's heroine was.

She padded across the room, Porthos following her, to retrieve the book off the shelf.  
Noting how tightly it was wedged between other books, she realized she should have just left it by the bedside or on the coffee table last night. Applying gentle pressure she attempted to pull it free.

It wouldn't budge so she applied more pressure, and this time she was able to retrieve it. In doing so, however, another book had fallen to the floor, scattering loose pieces of paper everywhere as it landed.

She started to collect the papers up. On examination she found them to be handwritten notes. She had been about to return them to the leather bound book they'd come from when her name, written in bold black lettering, caught her attention.

Scanning through the other loose pages she held, it became apparent that they were letters. But the surprising part of her discovery was that they were letters addressed to her! Why had she never been given them? Why would someone bother to handwrite anything in this day of PADDs and computer messaging?

She looked over the pages again. Several had dates written on them. Each letter began with her name — yes these letters were definitely for her. The handwriting was unmistakably Jonathan's. She hadn't seen much of his penmanship, but a few days before he'd left for Fiji she'd come across a shopping list he's scribbled on a piece of paper.

She sat down on the sofa with the letters in her lap. Porthos jumped up on the sofa and sat beside her. Too engrossed in her discovery, she didn't chide him for doing so.

Jonathan had written her letters — and many at that, but never given them to her! Should she read them? What if they were his private thoughts? No, he'd addressed them to her…she had a right to read them, didn't she? Ignoring the voice in her head that advised her to put them away and forget about them, she organized the letters into date order and began to read.

The first was dated 15th October 2151.

_T'Pol,_

_I just left you in sickbay, and Sopek has returned to his ship. He's agreed to argue your case before the High Command. It seems I got my way. I couldn't bare the thought of you leaving Enterprise…I think I'm beginning to come to terms with how much you mean to me. _

_I can't tell you this to your face…or at least not in such words because you'd probably deem it inappropriate. I tried telling you on the surface when I said I wouldn't let the Vulcans do to me what they'd done to my father. I meant every word. You're important to me. And not just as a science officer…_

_When we rode back in the shuttle together, I held you in my arms. You won't remember that because you were unconscious and bleeding. My stomach was in knots from fear. My relief was overwhelming when we arrived in Sickbay and Phlox reassured me that your condition wasn't grave. _

_Then I had to think up some way of keeping you onboard. Enterprise wouldn't be the same without you. My life wouldn't be the same without you. It seems I've grown accustomed to your face._

_To be honest, I think I might be falling in love with you. There…I've said it now and it's on paper. But I can't tell you…so I'll just write it here, along with my thoughts and feelings and maybe one day…one day I'll have the courage to show you this._

T'Pol blinked and reread a certain line.  
_  
To be honest, I think I might be falling in love with you._

Jonathan had possessed feelings for her then, at the time of her shooting on Corridan? That had been over three years ago. T'Pol was astounded. She began to read the next one. It had been written a few weeks later.  
_  
I got to him and you were right. But then you're always right. He had a temper and he didn't know how to control it. However, I think I enjoyed egging him on. I was livid; I could barely suppress my anger after learning what he'd done to you. He'd hurt you and you'd ended up in Sickbay. Though I am partly to blame; I'd encouraged you to spend time with your own people. If only I'd known…_

_Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I hope you'll forgive me._

She assumed he was speaking of Tolaris. She continued reading.  
_  
It seems my behaviour is becoming a little too obvious. I think you were too busy with Tolaris to catch on. Trip is observant — he accused me of being jealous of you spending so much time with Tolaris. He hit the nail on the head; I was jealous. I should have known that swine was interested in you in that way and kept you away from him. Some protective captain I am!_

T'Pol was incredulous. No he hadn't been obvious. Jonathan had been jealous of Tolaris? It didn't seem possible. Yet here in front of her were the words in his handwriting confirming that. She'd been blind.

She flicked through the pages and found one from a few months later, dated 18th February 2152.

_The Teachings of Surak — translated into English. I loved your note T'Pol. "To help you relax." _

He must have written this during his vacation on Risa.

_If only you were here helping me do just that. I'd secretly hoped you'd draw one of the lots and be forced to take time off. I'd already rehearsed my plan, telling you my villa had 2 bedrooms and you could stay with me. I'd have been the perfect gentleman, enjoying your company and getting to know you better._

_I'd have liked you to get to know me better, see me in more relaxed surroundings. I'd love you to call me Jonathan._

She skimmed through them looking for things that might give her more insight into Jonathan's feelings and thoughts. She found one from October 2152 that seemed to be tinged with sadness.

_I guess I'm a fool for even hoping you might care for me the way I care for you. Yes, I'm a fool. You're Vulcan — you probably don't even know what it means to be in love or what it feels like._

_But it seems I'm afflicted with this ailment. I love you, T'Pol. I think I finally realized how much. I wouldn't let them take you from me. I didn't care what rules they threw in my face. I ordered Hoshi to scan the medical database and find a loophole. Like I'd told you in your quarters yesterday — I wasn't going to give you up without a fight. _

_From the moment I learnt of your Pa'nar syndrome I've had to stop myself countless times from just enveloping you in my arms. I want to comfort you, to let you know how much I care, how much you mean to me. But I'm scared of crossing the line or bewildering you. Your feelings for me are a mystery. I know you trust me, and you're fiercely loyal but they are feelings associated with me being your captain. _

_Could you ever feel anything for me as a man?_

_I almost told you the truth today. When you came to see me in the Ready Room and I informed you that you weren't going to be recalled, I'd hoped to see some kind of reaction. I wanted to see something in your eyes that told me you were glad you were staying on Enterprise. But I couldn't read you. _

_I felt a little deflated that your main concern was fighting against Yuris' dismissal and then a smidgen of jealously crept up on me. I pondered if perhaps you were interested in him. But still I was determined to tell you how I felt. _

_So I said how from a selfish point of view I was glad you were staying — glad was an understatement. It was more like overjoyed. I was just about to tell you I hadn't wanted to lose you because…because I loved you, and then I lost my nerve. _

_But it hurt when you seemed less than interested in anything I had to say. You were all business like; saying how you hoped this incident would encourage others to speak out. _

_I don't know what I'd expected — I guess I had wanted a sign from you…something to give me hope that someday…_

_Oh why don't I just give up! It's never going to happen. I need to accept that I can only love you from afar, that you'll never be mine. That I can't show you how I feel._

He'd been about to tell her that he loved her? The memory of that day was very clear. Contrary to what he believed, his words hadn't gone unnoticed. She'd appeared to not react to them because she had been uncertain as to how to react. She'd been confused as to their true meaning. But she'd sat in her cabin that night mulling over them.  
_  
…but on a selfish note, I didn't want to lose you._

It had been difficult to decipher the captain's true meaning. At first she'd dismissed the idea that his concern for her was more than that of a friend. It wasn't until a few months later, when her own feelings began to emerge, that she thought back to this incident in his Ready Room. She'd pondered whether there was a deeper meaning to his words that day.

Now she was saddened at the knowledge that she'd caused him pain.

She came to the last letter. It was from April last year, just after their return to Earth after the first Xindi probe attack. It was unfinished.

_Forrest told me they want to send you back to Vulcan. If it's okay with Soval, Enterprise is supposed to give you a ride back to your home planet and then leave you there while we go into the Expanse._

_I feel numb from the shock. I hadn't thought for a moment that I'd be heading out into the unknown, on this impossible mission, without you at my side. It just seems incomprehensible. _

_We've been through so much together, T'Pol. This last year I've felt us growing closer and I've come to rely on you implicitly. Not having you there — well it's like asking me to chop off my right hand and leave it behind. _

_Maybe I can talk to Soval — though I doubt that would do much good. And who am I gonna promote to your position? Ugh…I'm not even going to think about that. _

_All I know at this moment is that I love you. The thought of being separated from you… it hurts too much to bear._

The letter ended there. There were no more entries after that date. She surmised he'd left the letters here before entering the Expanse. It appeared he hadn't had time to finish this one.

She gathered the notes up together and placed them carefully back into the leather bound book where they'd come from. Never in her life had she felt so completely overwhelmed.

He did love her, or at least he had loved her at that time — for a good two years. Did he still feel the same? If he did, that at least explained his pain over her supposed affair with Trip in the Expanse.

She couldn't even comprehend how bad he must have felt. Humans experienced emotions to such a depth — she was only beginning to learn what it meant to actually love someone. But Jonathan had carried these feelings around for three years.

She wished she'd gone to see him that night when he'd told her she wasn't going to be recalled. He'd thought she didn't care at all and was only interested in getting Doctor Yuris reinstated. That was far from the truth. She'd never known someone who would take up her cause and fight for it like Jonathan had. His loyalty, his fierce determination to keep her on Enterprise had astounded her.

And there'd been moments when she'd been so tired and exhausted by it all — the doctors and their accusations; that she'd just wanted to slump into his arms. And they'd been so eager!

She'd given up long before him. She remembered the evening he came to her quarters and found her packing. Malcolm had informed her that Jonathan had taken a shuttle down to the planet to speak with the doctors. As far as she concerned he'd gone on a fool's mission.

When he'd related what had happened and that the doctors would be willing to give her a hearing she'd not only been impressed, but also personally touched by his concern. No one had ever cared for her like this before. Her parents had always been distant and she'd never had a close friend in any of her previous assignments.

Jonathan was her friend and he cared. Cared to the extent that he'd pull all the strings at his disposal to keep her on board. That meant something to her. Reflecting on it now she regretted not showing him her gratitude. The last thing she'd wanted to do was inflict pain — and from reading these letters it was evident that he'd felt hurt and sadden by her reactions to him that day.

While not being fully aware of her own feelings for Jonathan at that time, if he'd tried to take her in his arms or even kiss her, she wouldn't have resisted. It might have been the catalyst to learning about how she felt about him.

T'Pol had been attracted to Jonathan Archer from their first meeting. The human had intrigued her, and she'd viewed her assignment to Enterprise as an interesting challenge.

As the weeks passed she'd found herself liking her captain. Humans were not as bad as certain Vulcans had made them out to be. He had his faults: he was proud, prejudiced and stubborn. Yet as they continued to work together, side by side, a bond of trust, friendship and loyalty developed. It's strength had been visibly apparent to Ambassador V'Lar. As she'd said her goodbyes to the captain and T'Pol she'd commented on it.

After the incident with Menos T'Pol had discovered that she didn't have to always be brave and self-sufficient. Jonathan had been there for her and allowed her to lean on him. This was a new experience for her — she'd never had someone she could turn to and rely on. The knowledge made her feel safe and secure.

Each morning she'd awaken, get dressed and walk to the Captain's Mess with a spring in her step. She looked forward to the coming day that would be spent with him. She enjoyed listening to the banter between Tucker and the captain at the breakfast table. Or sometimes it would just be her and Jonathan, and they'd enjoy a friendly repartee.

But it wasn't until she spent the day with him in the shuttlepod, examining the dark matter nebula that it dawned on her: she possessed romantic feelings for her captain. She'd insisted on coming, despite his reservations. A voice in her head had encouraged her not to let him venture off on his own. It had been easier than she'd anticipated — convincing him to let her accompany him and getting him to open up.

A few probing questions and soon he began to speak of A.G., the NX-Project and how he'd broken the warp 2 record. Getting it off his chest was good for him. Within an hour he was smiling and seemed far more jovial than he had before they'd left Enterprise.

Not wanting him to be disappointed she'd hoped they hadn't gone on what Tucker would have called a wild goose chase. When the final two charges ignited the area into a kaleidoscope of pinks, peach and purple hues she watched Jonathan's face light up with delight. He'd been right all along.

She'd been fascinated by the data and insisted on monitoring the quantum field. Jonathan wouldn't hear of it. He told her to let the sensors do that and invited her to witness this incredible spectacle with him. She'd stood next to him, becoming acutely aware of how good it felt to be close to him. She couldn't imagine wanting to be with anyone else at this moment. It was something ethereal and made her wonder if the human belief in soul mates was not a fable after all.

That evening, back on board Enterprise, he'd come to her quarters to thank her for her company.

"I was wrong about wanting to be alone today. It was good to have someone to share the experience with me," he confessed. "And I'm glad that someone was you."

"I am grateful we were given this opportunity, Captain. I will treasure the memory of today."

Something had felt different between them. Instead of the usual comfortable friendship vibe she usually experienced around him, she felt warm from head to toe. Her heart rate had increased and her stomach felt tight. Her eyes never left his, tracing every contour of his beautiful face. Her ears memorized every word that escaped his lips.

He'd smiled. "I already sent our data to Starfleet along with your recommendation for it to be named the Robinson Nebula. I think A.G.'s family will be moved by the gesture."

They'd talked for several more minutes then to her disappointment he'd bid her goodnight, thanking her again for her company today. She'd lain awake for several hours, reliving the moments in the shuttlepod. It was her night of revelation: she possessed strong feelings for her captain and she wished to explore them further.

That wish had been put on hold for almost a year. Since returning to San Francisco she'd tried to tell him several times, but each attempt had been unsuccessful. And with him going to Fiji with Rebecca, she'd convinced herself that he felt nothing for her, and was probably interested in rekindling a relationship with his old flame.

Now she didn't know what to think. She sat on the sofa with the leather book in her lap and stared into space.

The Expanse had changed Jonathan but had it erased his feelings for her? She recalled the night he'd been drunk and how the words "I love you" had slipped out. Later he'd denied it, almost mocking her.

So what was she to think? The man who'd written these letters had loved her with a passion but what about now? Had the Expanse, the Illyrians, his guilt changed all that?

She didn't have the answers. All she knew was that he'd loved her once. If he still felt that way…well it remained to be seen.

Her impulsive side, which she normally suppressed, wanted to board the next shuttle flight to Fiji and confront him with the letters. But he could deny it all…tell her he'd been wrong, that the letters meant nothing. She dismissed the foolish idea.

She didn't know what to think. She could feel a tension headache coming on. She was about to get up and start making lunch, when she heard a call coming through. She went to answer it.

"Hi, T'Pol. Glad I've caught you in."

The face on the view screen belonged to Steve Johnson.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

**Redemption **

**Chapter 18**

"Dr. Johnson. How are you?"

"Please, T'Pol, call me Steve."

"I apologise…Steve."

"I'm doing great…just settling into my new Starfleet office."

It was then that she realized he was calling her from the Starfleet Medical building.

"I hope it is comfortable."

"Yeah, it is. Listen, the reason I'm calling…about the dinner. My wife is out of town for the next few days so the earliest we could get together is Friday or next weekend."

"That is fine."

"Are you okay, T'Pol?"

"Yes…of course."

"Okay…you seemed absent-minded."

"I apologize. I have just came across some information that has surprised me." She didn't know why she was telling him this. Probably because she was still in shock over the letters.

"Oh, wanna talk about it?" he encouraged.

"It's personal."

"I won't pry then. But if you need to talk..."

"Thank you for the offer."

"T'Pol, listen. I've got a light day; no appointments till around 3pm this afternoon. Why don't you come over to Starfleet and we could have lunch here in the cafeteria? And if you change your mind I'll give you my listening ear."

The offer sounded tempting. It wasn't as if she had any plans, except to read more of _Jane Eyre_. And perhaps Steve would be more forthcoming with information about Margaret and Jonathan. Though at this moment nothing could shock her. Not after reading the letters. She agreed and said she'd be there at 1pm.

* * *

Jonathan ate lunch while reading one of the books he'd brought with him. Rebecca was gone for the afternoon and he was alone in the villa. She was out with an old acquaintance of hers that they'd bumped into yesterday during dinner. She was a reporter from London that Rebecca had worked with on a few assignments who was also on vacation here. 

Rebecca had asked Jonathan if he minded being alone; he was welcome to join them. He'd answered that he'd have a nice quiet day by himself and no he didn't mind. She'd repeated her invitation nonetheless, hinting that Cynthia had taken quite a liking to him. Yesterday she'd teased him about it mercilessly on the drive home from the restaurant. Instead of being his usual broody self however, he'd laughed at Rebecca's hints. It had felt like old times…before the Expanse, before Enterprise had ever left spacedock.

Rebecca had noticed his change in demeanour and remarked last night that he seemed in much brighter spirits. He'd been polite, conversational and more enthusiastic about the vacation in general. A smile and a twinkle in his eye had been her only response.

On the inside he didn't feel any better, but he was grateful that Rebecca's questions about either the Expanse or T'Pol had ceased. Since she'd made the effort he'd felt obliged to do the same. It seemed when he put his mind to it he could be a pretty good actor. Besides what fun was it for her to have a companion who was constantly moody and grumpy? None.

Since their sailing trip to Beqa they'd kept themselves busy with activities. They'd gone jet skiing on Saturday morning, parasailing in the afternoon and then taken a dinner moonlit cruise of Suva that evening.

Yesterday he'd booked himself on a diving expedition. From Suva he'd taken a shuttle flight in the morning to the island of Ovalau and met up with a group of divers in Levuka. They'd gone scuba diving amongst the Ovalau reefs exploring the old shipwrecks that had sunk in the 1900s. It had been an amazing experience and he'd taken several underwater photographs that he'd shared with Rebecca at dinner that evening, before bumping into Cynthia.

Keeping busy seemed to be the answer to the problem. It gave him and Rebecca less time to talk about his problems and secondly it gave him less time to think about them. However, now and then he'd find his mind wandering to thoughts of T'Pol — curious as to whether she'd enjoy such activities herself.

After two days of non-stop activity Rebecca and he had both decided today would be a day of rest. She hadn't gone to Ovalau with him, but had a busy day herself nonetheless. She'd taken an all day hiking expedition to Koroyanitu National Park. When they'd met up for dinner last night they'd both been eager to share their individual tales of adventure.

They'd planned to spend today together either just lying on the beach or going for a relaxing walk. But with the appearance of Cynthia, who was flying back to London tomorrow afternoon, Rebecca had wanted to spend some time with her old friend and that was perfectly understandable.

The afternoon passed quickly as he became engrossed in his book. It made a change, usually he found himself rereading the same line over and over. But his concentration seemed to be in gear today. And he'd been sleeping well which was good news. He'd had no more nightmares since the one a few night's ago. He was grateful that luck was holding out on his side.

Rebecca's Freudian theories might just hold weight, he thought. Since his thoughts hadn't been occupied with his guilt and the Illyrians in the last few days, that could be why they didn't appear in his dreams either.

He had no idea how long this temporary reprise would last, but he tried to enjoy it for the time being. If sweeping everything under a rug was the short-term answer, then that's what he'd do.

"Hey, Jon, look who I brought with me?"

He looked up from his book and saw Rebecca standing above him with Cynthia. "Hi Cynthia," he smiled.

"Nice to see you again, Jonathan," Cynthia answered in a posh English accent.

"You two are early. I thought you were going to be gone for hours."

"Well we came back for you. We've been invited to this party on the beach tonight, and we aren't taking no for an answer," Rebecca informed him.

He didn't care for the sound of that. He was not a party person. There would probably be free booze, but even that wasn't enough of an enticement.

"Jon, don't screw your face up like that. It's unbecoming," Rebecca chided.

"I'm not," he lied. "The sun's in my eyes."

"Hmm…anyway I thought I'd make dinner for the three of us, then we'd all head out to the party at Cynthia's hotel. Cynthia, why don't you sit down?" Rebecca invited. Her friend seemed a little nervous around Jon. Rebecca smiled to herself, remembering the feeling.

"Jon, be a good host, I'm going to get some drinks. Do you want anything?"

"A beer sounds good," he answered. Cynthia asked if they had any white wine. Rebecca nodded.

"You enjoying your stay here?" he asked Cynthia, trying to be a good host.

"Yes, I've loved it. It's so beautiful here."

"Yeah, that it is."

"Sure makes a change from rainy ole England."

"I bet."

"You know you're quite a celebrity, Jonathan. The London papers were full of photos of you and your crew when you returned. Do you get stopped and asked for autographs a lot?"

Rebecca walked in with the drinks, overhearing Cynthia's question. She guessed her friend was asking about the Expanse. She hadn't told her the topic was off-limits and was concerned the subject might put Jon into a bad mood.

"Now and then. Why, you want one?" he teased.

Rebecca was relieved he was taking this so well. She handed Cynthia a glass of white wine and Jon his beer. She joined them at the table with a beer herself. She wouldn't need to start on dinner yet for another half an hour.

"Course she does, Jon! And you can sign it love Jonathan." Jonathan cocked his head to the side and gave Rebecca a smirk. Cynthia laughed.

* * *

T'Pol made her way up to Starfleet Medical. She hadn't been here for a long time. In fact she'd hadn't been here since that day four years ago when her eyes had locked with Jonathan's for the very first time. 

She walked through the sliding glass doors up to the reception and asked for Dr. Johnson's office. The receptionist told her it was on the third floor. T'Pol started off in the direction of the elevator and glanced behind her. The receptionist was watching her with evident curiosity. The Vulcan analysed why…then it dawned on her: the woman thought she was Steve's patient!

Well she wasn't going to change the woman's perception now. It reminded her however that one of Steve's patients was an Enterprise crewmember. Who was it? It could be anyone from an ensign to a commander. Or perhaps one of the MACOs…though that seemed less likely. She gathered they'd be the ones best equipped psychologically to deal with what had occurred in the Expanse.

If anyone had been scarred by these events it was Jonathan. He was the one who should be seeking help. Perhaps if he knew someone else was having problems in coping with what had happened out there, he'd be more willing to open up about his own feelings to someone, namely a professional.

She exited the elevator on the third floor and proceeded through a medical bay. She stopped for a moment. This was the very spot she'd met Jonathan for the first time. He'd threatened to knock her on her ass — she'd thought him an arrogant, proud man who needed to learn humility.

Those feelings no longer existed, now the recollection was amusing. It seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had occurred since then and they'd both changed considerably. She'd been as prejudiced as he, looking down upon the human race as inferior beings, while he'd been convinced anyone in a Vulcan uniform was out to get him.

She continued to walk toward the end of the corridor where Steve's office was situated. She pressed the buzzer to his door and a young lady, presumably his assistant, answered.

"I'm here to see Dr. Johnson."

"Ah, yes, T'Pol, isn't it? He's expecting you. Take a seat and I'll tell him you're here."

Steve emerged a few moments later, apologizing for keeping her waiting. "Hope you don't mind Starfleet food."

"I do work on a starship."

"That's true. But I've heard that Enterprise's chef is the best in the fleet."

"You heard correctly."

They made their way to the cafeteria located on the top floor of the medical building. T'Pol choose a light salad with a bottle of mineral water. Steve had a turkey club sandwich with coffee. They sat down at a table by the window overlooking San Francisco Bay.

"Seems you didn't have a problem finding my office."

"No, I asked the receptionist at the front desk. However, in doing so, I believe she now thinks I'm one of your patients."

Steve chuckled. "Let's hope that doesn't leak out. Enterprise's First Officer seeks out shrink — that would make quite a headline."

"I don't believe joking about such a serious matter is appropriate."

"I'm sorry T'Pol. I didn't mean to offend your Vulcan sensibilities. Forgive me, joking and teasing is my way of coping at times. Remember my job is listening to people's problems all day."

"I am not upset. I recall you mentioning one of my fellow crewmembers are seeking your help. I wouldn't like to think the general public would think less of him or her for requesting that help."

"In an ideal world, T'Pol, no one would be judgmental. We may think we're an advanced race but seeking help for psychological problems still carries a stigma, sadly." Steve had turned serious.

T'Pol wondered if this was another reason Jonathan hadn't sought help. If it did leak out, she could imagine how unsympathetic the public would be. But the chances of that were very slim.

"Yes, I believe so. I think for a second I was a tad concerned as to what the receptionist would think about me."

"See, we were thinking along the same lines, only I made a joke of it."

"I won't deny it."

Steve smiled at her. "So, can I be nosy for a moment and ask what it was that surprised you this morning?""Is this second nature for you?"

"Being nosy? Sure! It's my job."

"But I'm not seeking your services."

"That's a no, then?"

"It is not something I can discuss with…anyone."

"Must be some secret. Or is that just the Vulcan way? Keep it all locked inside?"

"Well there is one person I may discuss it with at a later time."

"Ah, so Jonathan is your confidante," Steve smiled.

She decided not to say anymore. Steve was good at his job and was reading her too well. If she gave him any more clues who knows what theories he might begin to weave.

"I think it's great," he continued, "how the two of you are so close. He thinks the world of you."

"You speaking of the captain?"

"Of course, T'Pol."

"You've been reading Jonathan's logs." That was the only way he could have come to such conclusions.

"Yes, and in between the lines. There's a lot said there as well."

"I know it's part of your job to read his logs, but perhaps you shouldn't psycho-analyse the captain without his permission."

"You're very protective of him."

Now he was psycho-analysing her!

"Don't get upset. Like I said before, it's second nature to me. I guess it's my gift or talent — reading people. Don't have any others to speak of, so I choose to put this one to use and help others if I could."

"You always wanted to go into this branch of medicine?" T'Pol enquired.

"Pretty much…yeah. The mind is fascinating and still very much a mystery."

"And I'm not upset." She was however concerned as to what he might figure out. He hardly knew her and yet his guesses or assumptions were right on the nose.

"But you're worried that I may stumble across some truths you don't want me to?"

"Do you think I have something to hide?"

"I don't know, do you?" he asked, teasingly. She didn't answer. "To be honest you've intrigued me from the day I met you, T'Pol. And it's in my nature to dig deeper and ask questions, even if I'm not on the case so to speak. But if it makes you uncomfortable I will desist."

"I'm fine."

"Good. And just so you understand, with Jon it's not mere idle curiosity. He was a good friend of mine many years ago…it was shame we lost touch. I'm looking forward to seeing him when he comes back from Fiji."

"I understand."

"So how is he doing?"

"I haven't heard from him since I last saw you."

"Okay. But generally, is he okay? After reading some of his logs…well let's just say I can't imagine he'd not be suffering some kind of psychological effects from what he went through."

"How much do you know?" T'Pol asked.

"I've read the logs up to where you encountered the Triannons."

So he didn't know about the Illyrians yet, or what had occurred at Azati Prime.

"Steve," she whispered, "I won't lie and say he's fine, although he'd probably be furious with me for saying so. But I also can't divulge anything in such a public place, even if it is Starfleet."

The doctor was Jonathan's friend and perhaps, like she'd suggested to Phlox, he would be able to assist the captain. At first she had felt a little defensive about Steve reading between the lines so to speak. But she acknowledged that it was second nature for him. He could be just the person to help Jonathan.

This was a perfect opportunity and she'd decided to seize it. Yes Jonathan would be angry, and he'd probably go a couple rounds with her saying he wasn't going to see any shrink etc etc…but there was always a slim chance that he'd consider it, especially since he knew Steve from a long time ago.

Steve nodded. "I understand. Listen, maybe you should make an appointment with me after all? I can't imagine any of you were immune to what went on out there. And during said appointment…well if you felt inclined, you could share your thoughts about you know who."

"Let me think about it."

"Sure."

"In the meantime, weren't you going to finish a story for me?"

"Oh about Jon and Maggie?"

She nodded.

* * *

"I think you should go in black," Rebecca giggled. She'd had a few beers even before leaving for the party. "Then the women won't be able to keep their hands off you." 

Jonathan's face contorted. "Right, that's what I really want. While we're at it, why don't you go dressed in that red off-the-shoulder cocktail dress I know you brought."

"Okay, you're on! The red dress it is." She laughed and left his bedroom to get dressed.

Jonathan looked at the clothes in the wardrobe. He should pick something out that would make him inconspicuous. He really didn't want to go to this party, but he had a part to play and it wasn't time yet for the curtain to fall. He pondered how long he could keep this pretence up.

He sat down on the bed and sighed. He'd been here almost a week. It had gone slowly, it felt like months since he'd been in San Francisco. Enterprise and space exploration felt like another lifetime. That's cause they are, he thought. He felt like the life he'd known had been ripped from him and he didn't have a clue how to get it back.

T'Pol had asked him if he was fit to command Enterprise. Was he? He felt like he'd been moulded into some kind of military commander and now there was no war to oversee. He felt useless. Could he ever enjoy exploration again? How could he fly through space with the knowledge that somewhere out in the Expanse a stranded ship of Illyrians was trying to find its way home?

The answer to that was he couldn't.

Maybe it was time to pack his bags up and go home. Go home and face the music so to speak. Do something pro-active. He didn't know. His thoughts were beginning to give him a headache.

He shouldn't be thinking about such things…he might bring on another nightmare.

He rifled through his toiletries bag but couldn't find any painkillers. Exiting his room he knocked on Rebecca's bedroom door. Cynthia answered saying they were trying on different outfits for the party tonight.

"What's up, Jon?" Rebecca asked as he walked in. He inquired as to whether she had any painkillers. "Sure, what's wrong?"

"Just a mild headache. Don't want it to get any stronger."

"Okay." She stepped into the bathroom, retrieved a container and passed it to him. "Here you go. Don't think this will get you out of the party though," she teased.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good. So you going with the black shirt and pants?"

"Thinking about it." He thanked her for the pills and returned to his room. He went to the bathroom and washed two pills down with a glass of water.

Returning to the bedroom he slipped on a pair of black pants and noticed they were tight around the waist. "Rebecca's cooking," he mused to himself. Plus all the desserts he'd been indulging in of late.

He'd really overdone it tonight…and so had Rebecca in the cooking department. So much for her saying they'd have a simple dinner this evening. Her culinary talents amazed him!

For starters they'd had chilled avocado soup. The main course was turkey escalopes with baby new potatoes, broccoli, cauliflower and a salad. Dessert was a blackcurrant cheesecake that she confessed she'd made the previous night. Even Cynthia was amazed.

Fortunately he had another pair of black pants with him that would accommodate his sudden weight gain. They were an older pair he'd worn before his time in the Expanse. He slipped them on. They fit snugly.

Now for the shirt…something that would not get him noticed. He had a dark beige shirt — yeah that should fit the bill. He took it off the hanger and put it on. He brushed his hair, and went to see if the ladies were ready.

Rebecca came out dressed in the red shoulder-less cocktail dress, just as he'd dared her to. The dress ended just above her knees and was tightly fitted around her waist. No wonder she'd had the smallest portions at dinner. She looked fantastic! She'd put her hair up and wore long dangly gold earrings and a chain around her neck.

"I don't think we're in any doubt as to who will be getting all the attention tonight," he said.

"He can be a real flatterer when he puts his mind to it," she told Cynthia, as she smiled at Jon thanking him silently. "You didn't wear the black shirt, Jon."

"Didn't want to steal your limelight," he teased.

She didn't push it. Her instincts told her he didn't want to go to this party and he was just putting on a good act for her and Cynthia. If he looked very bored she decided she'd come home early with him.

"How's the headache?" she asked.

"Better, thanks."

He complimented Cynthia on her outfit as well. She was dressed in black pants with a shiny gold top open at the neck.

"I ordered a taxi to take us to the hotel as I assume we all wish to drink tonight. It should be here in about five minutes," Rebecca informed them.

* * *

The party was rowdy and noisy. The hotel restaurant had been turned into a dance floor. Jonathan sat nursing a whisky watching as the revellers enjoyed themselves. The doors to the restaurant had been left open, leading out onto a large deck where food was being served. It was mostly party fare with some barbecued items. After the huge dinner he'd had he couldn't eat another thing. 

Rebecca had asked him to dance but he said he wasn't in the mood. She said she'd let him off for now, but expected him to dance at least once with her and Cynthia, even if he didn't feel like it.

This kind of thing was more for young people. He began to feel his age…if he'd been twenty years younger maybe this would have been his scene. He recalled a party like this he'd been to with Maggie. Even then though he'd preferred the slower ballads to dance to, where you could hold your partner close.

His thoughts switched to T'Pol. He remembered the afternoon he'd danced with her in his apartment. One of his jazz CDs had been playing in the background and it had seemed an opportune moment. She'd come to him eagerly, closing her eyes and resting her head on his chest. He'd held her tightly, luxuriating in her closeness; never wanting the moment to end.

And then he'd kissed her. At first he was gentle, then he permitted some of the welled up passion he felt for her to slip out. All too soon the music had ended and the spell had been broken. For a few brief moments he'd forgotten about everything else and enjoyed the feel of her in his arms, but then reality had interfered.

He got up from his chair and ambled towards the direction of the bar. He needed another drink…one that would drown out all thoughts of T'Pol. On his way back to his seat he bumped into Cynthia.

"You all right, Jonathan?"

"Fine, thanks."

He was about to continue on his way but then remembered his manners. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, thanks. I have a weak head."

"Okay."

"But I'd like to dance," she said as he'd started to move away from her.

"I'm not really a good dancer."

"That's not what Rebecca says," she smiled. "Besides it's not as if you have to do the tango."

Hmm…how was he going to get out of this one? It didn't look like there was any means of escape. He reluctantly agreed. He placed his drink on the table and allowed Cynthia to lead him to the dance floor.

She was a pretty girl. Of that there was no doubt. She was a few years younger than Rebecca and had dark brown wavy hair and blue eyes. Her complexion was pale. But whatever pretty or attractive women came his way, he only had eyes for T'Pol. He considered this an extension of his duties as host and a favour to Rebecca because he really wasn't in the mood for dancing.

He didn't know whether or not to be grateful but the next tune played was a romantic ballad. Yes it was more his style of dancing…but this was ideal when you were with the woman you loved.

"Something wrong?" Cynthia asked as the music began.

"No," he said.

"If I'm treading on Rebecca's territory—"

"No. Rebecca and I are good friends."

"That's what she told me."

He felt stiff and uncomfortable. Knowing that this girl was attracted to him made him uneasy. Unless of course it had all been a big joke and Rebecca had teased him just for fun. Boy he hoped so!

"So you flying back to London tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I don't envy you the jet-lag. What is it, a 12 hour time difference?"

"Yes twelve hours, but I'll adjust. I'm used to travelling and time changes."

Within a few minutes the music ended and he returned to his table. Cynthia followed him and sat down. He glanced around the room. Where was Rebecca? He swallowed the drink he'd left in one gulp.

"Do you like that stuff?" Cynthia asked.

"Whisky?"

"Yeah, I think it's ghastly."

"It's an acquired taste."

"I suppose. I guess it does the job quick if you want to get drunk."

"You think I'm trying to get drunk?" He felt a little defensive, as if she was accusing him.

"Oh no, I never meant to insinuate. Just that you'd have to drink a lot more wine and beer than whiskey or vodka to achieve the same result."

"Right."

Rebecca made a welcome appearance at this point. "Where have you been?" Jonathan asked as she sat down.

"Oh just making some new friends," she laughed. "Antonio over there was trying to buy me a drink." She pointed in the direction of the bar where a handsome Latino winked back at her. "Cynthia, would you mind getting me a beer and I think Jonathan will have another whiskey."

Her friend nodded and left.

"I saw the two of you dancing. You didn't look very happy."

"It was awkward," he replied.

"Well thanks for doing it anyway. She's really sweet on you."

"So it's not all a joke then?"

"Nah, sorry. Don't worry, it's just a little crush. I told her there was someone you're interested in anyway."

"What?" He sounded angry.

"Oh my God, here we go again. The forbidden subject. I didn't mention any names, Jon. Calm down. I'd have thought with the amount of whiskey you've consumed you'd be feeling a little mellow."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to overreact like that. I've been trying to be more…pleasant."

"I know, and I appreciate the effort." She ruffled his hair in a sign of affection. "What are we gonna do with you, Jon?"

"Is that rhetorical?"

She shrugged.

"So what's with you and Antonio?"

"He's just being friendly."

Cynthia returned with the drinks and then dashed off explaining Antonio had asked her to dance. She seemed rather excited at the idea.

Rebecca laughed. "See, she's forgotten you already, Jon! Come on, you can take me round the dance floor, just for old time's sake."

"I guess I can," he smiled and offered out his hand to Rebecca.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Apologies for the long delay in updating this. I'm hoping updates will be a lot more frequent from now on. _

**Redemption Chapter 19**

Jonathan glanced at his watch. It was approaching midnight. He stifled a yawn and finished off his drink. He'd lost count now of the amount he'd consumed and was feeling rather relaxed and sleepy.

He scanned the dance floor and noticed Antonio and Cynthia were still dancing together for probably the umpteenth time. He wondered where Rebecca had wandered off to. He'd last seen her about an hour ago chatting with some people by the food tables. He wanted to tell her he was leaving. He'd done his duty and played his part, dancing with both Cynthia and Rebecca and pretending to look like he was having a good time.

In reality the time had seemed to crawl past. This really wasn't his scene; he'd have rather stayed at home either watching a movie or reading a book or going for a relaxing walk on the beach. Well he could do that now as he made his way back to the villa. They'd taken a taxi to get here, but getting some fresh sea air before going to bed sounded rather appealing.

He waited a few more minutes to see if Rebecca would make an appearance and then decided to get up and walk towards the open doors out onto the deck. People were dancing out here as well. As he ambled towards the steps leading to the beach he spotted Cynthia who was now alone. He approached her and asked if she knew where Rebecca was.

"I saw her about ten minutes ago. Perhaps she went to the ladies' room. Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, I think it's past my bedtime," he answered. "Can you tell Rebecca I'm going back to the villa?"

"Sure thing."

"Thanks." Then he remembered that she was leaving tomorrow for London and he'd been about to leave without wishing her a safe trip home. "Hope you have a good flight tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jonathan. But you aren't rid of me yet," she teased. "Rebecca invited me for breakfast to the villa tomorrow and then she's driving me to the airport in the afternoon."

"Oh okay then…see you tomorrow." She smiled at him and waved as he walked down the steps towards the sand.

He walked to the water's edge and looked out onto the ocean. In the far distance he could see a bright white light flashing intermittently. He guessed it was the lighthouse. They weren't needed anymore with the sophisticated equipment onboard most sea vessels but he guessed they were kept operational as a tourist attraction.

He took off his shoes and socks and rolled his pants up slightly. Picking up his shoes he walked along the wet sand and let the waves lap at his feet. Listening to the sound of the waves coming in and feeling the tepid water splash at his feet soothed him.

He estimated it was a good half hour walk back to the house. The drive over by taxi had taken several minutes, and it was further by road than directly walking along the shoreline.

It was a full moon tonight and visibility was very good. He could even make out planet Venus amongst the stars. "Goddess of love," he mused to himself and then laughed a little cynically. She hadn't exactly bestowed her blessing on him. He felt a pang of loneliness as he considered how pleasant it would be to have a loved one accompany him.

He'd done the whole walking on the beach holding hands romantic scenario several times over the years with different players in the supporting role. At this moment he could only think of one woman who he'd have liked by his side. And the reason she wasn't there was entirely his own fault.

He sighed. However hard he tried thoughts of her never seemed to completely go away. It was as if she resided there in the back of his mind, resurfacing whenever she felt like it. He had no control over it. Distractions were all well and good, but being alone seemed to be an open invitation for these thoughts.

What was she doing right now? What was she thinking? Did she miss him? It had been four days since he'd spoken to her, maybe it was time to give her a call and check in with her and Porthos. He was certain all was well, but he needed to hear her voice and see her face.

He didn't battle with thoughts of her any longer, and instead permitted memories to surface unbidden. Maybe he was just too tired to fight them off any longer. Images passed before him: of missions shared, of secrets told, of heroic rescues and of private moments of friendship. He smiled as he recalled their day in San Francisco walking along the Golden Gate Bridge. That had been a magical day.

But he frowned when he remembered the evening she'd found him in the conference center brooding over his spat with Soval. That night could have gone so differently if he hadn't overreacted and lost his cool.

He was so touchy these days – the tiniest little thing seemed to set him off. Maybe he needed help with anger management. He'd had no right to fly off the handle like that with her, and she hadn't deserved it.

Sigh…she didn't deserve any of his latest behaviour…including his skulking off to Fiji so he could avoid her and on top of that there was the whole deception involving Rebecca. Hmm…couldn't his brain muster up something more positive? He rifled through a few memories and recalled a recent one.

He remembered walking onto the Bridge with Alicia to the shock of the entire crew. Reports of his death aboard the Xindi weapon had been greatly exaggerated. Hoshi had sprinted up to him, hugging him enthusiastically. Despite that his gaze couldn't be taken off the visage of his first officer. She appeared rooted to the spot, the expression on her face one of shock and disbelief, as if he were an apparition. He released Hoshi and locked eyes with T'Pol. At that moment he'd wanted nothing more than to be alone with her, whisk her away to the privacy of his Ready Room. There he would have wrapped his arms around her convincing her that he was no dream or ghost, but real flesh and blood.

But there'd never been time for such personal moments. Their mission or more accurately Daniels' mission had stood in the way. But what was new? Wasn't that always the case? In every circumstance there'd been impediments to them having such moments. Except now…

Now they had the time and just what was he doing with it? He was thousands of miles away from her, leaving it all unsaid just as he'd done so many times on Enterprise.

He arrived at the house in what seemed like a few minutes, but glancing at his watch he noted it had taken around 25 minutes. His estimate hadn't been far off, but the minutes had seemed to fly past as he'd been lost in his thoughts.

The villa was dark, so he assumed Rebecca hadn't returned yet. He switched the light on in the living room as he stepped through the patio doors which had been left unlocked. There was virtually no crime on the island, and it was unheard of in the vacation areas.

Sliding the door shut he padded across the room to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and gulped it down in one go. He was feeling rather thirsty after all the alcohol he'd consumed. He slumped down on the couch in front of the television and flicked through a few channels. Nothing appealed to him so he turned it off. He knew he should go to bed, his eyelids felt heavy and he couldn't stop himself from yawning every couple of seconds.

He contemplated calling T'Pol, but decided against it; best to speak to her when he wasn't on the verge of falling asleep. On the other hand talking to her would probably make him more alert. But if their conversation didn't go well there was the chance he wouldn't be able to sleep. Then he realized he was getting his time zones confused, if he called her now she'd be fast asleep, it was the middle of the night for her.

He permitted his eyes to close for a few moments, telling himself he'd get up and go to bed in a few minutes. Within thirty seconds he'd fallen asleep, his head resting on the edge of the sofa.

* * *

Rebecca bid her friend goodnight instructing her to be prompt for breakfast tomorrow at 10am.

"That early?" Cynthia asked.

"What do you mean early?"

"Well it's almost 2am now, and you know I'm not a morning person."

"Your flight is at 2pm and you know you need to check in 2 hours before departure. So if you come over at 10 we'll have about an hour and a half together and then I'll drive you to the airport. "

Cynthia agreed with her friend's logic and bid her goodnight. Rebecca stepped into a taxi, grateful that the hotel where the party had been held had an ample supply of them even at this time of night, and instructed the driver to take her back to the villa.

She stepped into the house quietly, careful not to make too much noise as she closed the front door. She gathered Jonathan must be fast asleep in his room. Therefore she was surprised to find the door to his bedroom ajar with no sign of him inside.

Tip-toeing into the living room she found him sitting on the sofa with his head propped up against the side of it. He was still dressed in what he'd worn to the party and was sound asleep.

He must have been tired. She'd never known him to fall asleep in a sitting position. She felt a tad remorseful for having dragged him out to the party. He'd put on a good show but she'd known he wasn't really having a good time. He didn't seem to enjoy much these days and her theory was that the Expanse had done this to him. It was as if it had literally sucked the life out of him. She wanted him to find that joy again, because he deserved it, like any human being did.

Kicking off her heels she went to her room and managed to climb out of her red cocktail dress. She put on her pyjamas and went into the kitchen to get some water.

Jonathan needed to be awakened. If he was left there all night in that position he'd have a hell of a neck ache in the morning. Finishing her water and depositing the glass in the sink she ambled over to him. She was about to gently shake him awake when she found herself studying his face, and a rather distinguished and handsome one it was at that. She smiled to herself as she noticed that he had the longest eyelashes of any man she knew.

He looked adorable when he slept and a lot younger. It was as if in sleep his face was wiped clean of the strains and guilt that plagued him during the day.

She crouched down so she was level with him and gently caressed his cheek with her hand. "Oh, Jonathan," she whispered "what am I going to do with you?" If only there was some way she could help him…or at least if there was a way to alleviate the pain he suffered.

She knew it was there…even if he hadn't mentioned it in the last three days. It was always there…etched in that beautiful face of his. But now, as he slept peacefully, it had disappeared…albeit momentarily.

She hated to see anyone unhappy…but it pained her even more to see someone she'd loved once…who was dear to her carry around this burden on his shoulders. Whatever he felt guilty about…she couldn't imagine it was that bad. Jonathan Archer wasn't a man who committed wrong…at least not the man she knew. And if he'd ever done a wrong, he'd done his utmost to put it right.

He stirred in response to her voice but didn't open his eyes. "Jon." She shook him gently by the shoulders.

"Mmm…" he answered but didn't open his eyes.

"Jon, wake up," she said, a little more loudly this time. "You can't sleep here all night." Still no reaction.

"Jonathan!"

His eyes opened slowly and it appeared as if he was trying to make out who she was.

"T'Pol?" he asked, slightly squinting.

Was he dreaming? Maybe he was in that half dream/half awake stage people sometimes experienced. He'd probably been dreaming about the Vulcan again.

"Sorry to disappoint, Jon, but it's me."

"Rebecca?"

"Yeah. You okay?" He still seemed disorientated. He straightened up and shook his head, as if to rid it of cobwebs. He rolled his neck around once then massaged the back of it with his right hand.

"Lucky you're awake now and not in the morning. I can only imagine how stiff that neck would be then."

"Yeah…I guess," he answered. "What time is it?"

"2:10am."

"Oh, I must have fallen asleep sitting up."

"That seems the obvious conclusion. Come on," she said offering her hand to help him get up, "let's get you into bed."

He took her offered hand and stood up. "Thanks, I think I know the way."

She followed him anyway just to make sure he didn't trip or slip up. He didn't seem to be fully awake and in this state it was safer to just keep an eye on him. He stumbled into his room and plonked himself on the bed.

"Need a hand?" she enquired.

He looked up at her. "Er…no I think I can manage." He started to unbutton his shirt.

Rebecca stood in the doorway leaning against the frame. "Were you dreaming when I woke you up?" Normally she'd have left this conversation to morning but with Cynthia coming around for breakfast she'd ask him now. In this less-than-awake state he might not be so on guard with her questions.

"No…don't think so."

He placed his shirt on a chair and took off his pants. He looked up at Rebecca. "You just gonna stand there and watch me undress?"

"Nothing I haven't seen before."

He shrugged, took his pyjama bottoms out of a draw and went into the bathroom. A few minutes later he reappeared and climbed into bed. He leaned over to turn off the light and glanced in her direction.

"Goodnight, Rebecca."

"You called me T'Pol."

"Huh?" He gave her a confused expression.

"When I woke you up, I believe you thought I was your Vulcan first officer. Perhaps you'd been dreaming of her."

"Oh…I don't recall." His voice was sleepy.

"It's okay, Jon. It's not as if it's the first time."

"What do you mean?"

"You did it that day we went sailing, on the beach. I just didn't say anything."

"Did what?"

"You called me T'Pol. This is the second time it's happened. I would therefore conclude she's on your mind, be it your conscious or subconscious one."

"Aren't you tired?" he asked. It was obvious he didn't wish this conversation to continue.

"A little, but I didn't have as much to drink as you. Listen, I don't want to keep you awake, I can see you fighting to keep your eyes open. But do you think we could agree on this one thing?"

"What one thing?"

"How about you agreeing not to deny how you feel about T'Pol anymore?"

"Rebecca—"

"No, I'm not gonna drop it. I'm asking for this one concession, I don't see why you can't admit it. I don't bug you about the Expanse. But I can't pretend any more about this. It's obvious you're in love with her. I don't understand why that has to be a secret."

"If I agree can I turn off the light and get some shut eye?" The despondency in his voice was evident.

"Yes, of course."

"Okay, I agree. Goodnight." With that he turned off the light and she assumed that was her cue to leave. She gently shut his bedroom door, whispering goodnight and retreated to the living room.

Hmm…that was almost too easy. Usually he put up such a fight. Had he grown tired of denying the truth? The most plausible theory was that he was simply too tired to argue about this now and if they'd had the conversation at any other time he'd have denied any such feelings for T'Pol vehemently.

Well at least she'd heard it from his own lips now, so he couldn't lie about it any longer. Besides she wouldn't have brought the subject up if he hadn't called her T'Pol. And this was the second time in the space of a few days.

They could always get into it more after she returned from the airport tomorrow afternoon. So she'd finally got him to admit this. Now maybe she could work on him actually acting on how he felt.

* * *

T'Pol awoke to the sound of driving rain the next morning. She climbed out of bed and opened the curtains in Jonathan's bedroom. Yes her hearing hadn't failed her. It was a downpour, and it didn't look like it was going to let up. Scanning the horizon there were dark grey clouds as far as the eye could see.

She strolled into the living room and taped in a few keys on the computer to see what the prediction for this afternoon's weather was to be. She'd invited Phlox to join her for a walk in Golden Gate State Park, but it looked like those plans weren't going to pan out.

Yesterday the local meteorological office had predicted a sunny warm day. Now it was apparent their predictions were completely off. She contacted Phlox to ask him if there was anything else he'd like to do that wouldn't be hindered by increment weather.

The doctor appeared on the screen smiling and jolly as always. For a moment T'Pol pondered if she'd ever seen him miserable, or if he was even capable of the emotion. True there had been times in the Expanse when he'd been sombre, especially when delivering news of fatalities, but otherwise he seemed totally unperturbed by things that often upset humans. It was obvious Denobulans had a much brighter outlook on life than their Terran counterparts.

Phlox suggested they go to the Legion of Honor Arts Museum in Lincoln Park which overlooked the Golden Gate Bridge. He'd heard this was San Francisco's most beautiful museum, and explained that there was no logical reason for them to put off their afternoon together just because of the rain. T'Pol agreed and arranged to meet him at Jonathan's apartment around 1pm.

In the meantime she had breakfast, fed Porthos, showered, had lunch and changed into her outfit for the afternoon. Whilst these activities had kept her occupied none of them did a good job of distracting her mind from thoughts of yesterday's discoveries: finding Jonathan's letters and learning the truth about Margaret Mullin.

These distracting thoughts had resulted in a night of tossing and turning. She estimated she must have slept around three hours in total before the sound of the rain had woken her up. And she must have been sleeping very lightly for that to have happened.

Before her lunch with Steve yesterday, she'd known Maggie was this girl Jonathan had loved and had wanted to marry. But he'd told her a lot more. Now she knew that Maggie had refused Archer's proposal of marriage and the young pilot had been devastated. It had taken Steve a while to put it all together, but finally he'd tracked Maggie down in Denver and got in touch. He was furious with her for breaking his friend's heart. He'd tried to contact Jon, but apparently he'd disappeared off the face of the earth.

Steve told her that in the long run Maggie had felt she'd done Archer a favour. She wasn't the right woman for him, and she couldn't sit by and be the good wife while he was off god knows where testing new spacecraft or exploring the great unknown.

T'Pol had commented that if Miss Mullin knew all of this why had she become involved in the first place? To her it appeared illogical to attach oneself to a man if one knew the relationship was doomed from the beginning. Steve surmised that she hadn't known and had probably been swept off her feet at the time, and then all of a sudden things had become very serious.

T'Pol felt dissatisfied with the explanation. From what she'd heard Maggie sounded like an intelligent woman. Did attraction and love negate one's reasoning? It seemed to in humans.

She'd questioned Steve as to what had happened to Jonathan. It had apparently taken him a lot longer to find Archer than it had to contact Maggie. He'd been due to start Starfleet training after graduating from flight school but hadn't turned up for any of his classes. Steve discovered after some digging around that Jon had requested a three month leave of absence.

At first this seemed very un-Archer like to T'Pol. She couldn't imagine him running away like this over a romantic liaison. But then he'd been a lot younger. On second thought…maybe it did ring true. He'd run off to Fiji with Rebecca hadn't he? Not that T'Pol was the only reason for him running away; there was all the other stuff he was dealing with in regard to the Illyrians and what had occurred in the Expanse.

Perhaps when push came to shove running away was his means of coping. He had in effect run away in the Expanse even while serving with the crew each and every day. He'd cut off those closest to him and isolated himself, becoming an island.

Steve had come to a dead end in locating Archer being forced to wait till the three months were up before hearing any news. Maggie had contacted him a few times asking if he'd heard from Archer but he never had any information to give her. T'Pol wondered if Maggie had felt guilty or regretted her decision. Steve explained that she felt responsible for him doing a disappearing act, and while she wouldn't have rescinded her refusal, she still cared.

Steve had concluded the story by explaining that Archer had turned up back at Starfleet three months later as if nothing had happened. They'd talked a few times briefly but Jon had seemed closed off. Discussion of Maggie was off-limits and he'd refuse to answer any questions in regard to her. He wouldn't even explain his three month absence. As time went by it was harder and harder to get a hold of him. Steve explained that Jon seemed to throw himself into his work, spending long hours and trying to climb up the Starfleet career ladder as fast as he could. Steve had invited him out to the east coast on several occasions but Jon always refused saying he didn't have time.

Then when Steve had received an assignment to work in London for a year, they'd lost touch completely. On his return to the States he took up a residency position in Baltimore and his work kept him very busy. Now and then he'd hear something about Archer through the grapevine from mutual friends or there'd be an article on the news about the latest breakthrough on the warp 5 engine design.

Neither one of them had maintained their friendship. T'Pol had mused that it was a shame. Archer didn't seem to have a lot of close friends. The only ones she knew of apart from herself were A.G., who was dead, and Trip. Life couldn't have been easy having to shoulder such responsibilities as Jonathan did with no one to confide in. It seemed he'd dealt with his heartbreak over Maggie on his own, soldiered on in the face of Vulcan opposition to get his father's engine into space, and then in the Expanse single-handedly taken on the responsibility of saving Earth. It was inevitable that all of these events would take a toll on him psychologically.

Steve had noticed her lost in thought and had enquired what her conclusions were. She'd merely answered that she was mulling over the information he'd provided her with. He'd pressed on as to what she really thought, but she evaded him. She'd guessed if it hadn't been that his lunch break was over, he'd have questioned her more.

So that was the story of Margaret Mullin – perhaps not the entire tale, but some of it at least. For Jonathan to have taken three months off like that and disappeared to who knows where, her refusal must have been both shocking and devastating. She pondered if he'd ever talked to anyone about Maggie — did Trip know? Had he ever told A.G.?

Maybe that was just the way Jonathan was – he didn't tell anyone about his love life or romantic feelings, not even friends. She'd learnt from her time onboard Enterprise that human men were far less likely to talk about romantic relationships than women, who seemed more than happy to discuss their latest crush or attraction with a fellow female crewmember. But still, she imagined that some men did share. She could see men like Malcolm and Trip discussing their latest conquests. But Jonathan was different.

From this she surmised no one had a clue about his feelings for her – those letters she'd discovered yesterday were the only evidence in existence. Trip had told her a few days ago at breakfast that she meant the world to Archer – but that didn't mean he thought the captain had romantic feelings for her. No, she felt certain it was his deep dark secret, that is, if he even felt that way anymore.

She slipped on her jacket and took an umbrella with her, deciding to meet Phlox at the entrance to the apartment building which would save him from having to come upstairs to meet her. It was almost 1pm so he'd be here any minute.

The museum sounded interesting and she hoped there would be some interesting exhibits. At least she'd get a break from thinking about Jonathan, Margaret and the letters for a few hours.

She checked on Porthos before she left and found him taking an afternoon nap in his basket. She filled his water bowl and made sure there was enough food in his bowl in case she wasn't back for his dinner. With that she closed the apartment door and made her way to the front entrance.

* * *

Phlox and T'Pol meandered through the different exhibits exchanging comments if there was something that took their particular interest. T'Pol found the work of French artist Claude Monet pleasing. His style was soothing. In particular she liked the simplicity of the painting of a Japanese foot-bridge over a lily pond. Phlox stated that he preferred the paintings of the Italian city of Venice.

"Have you heard from the captain lately?" the doctor enquired as they walked into the next hall of paintings.

"No, I've had no news since he called me last five days ago."

"I hope he's getting plenty of rest."

"Yes," she answered absent-mindedly. She wondered why Jonathan hadn't called. She'd expected him to at least check in on Porthos. Perhaps he didn't as it made him uncomfortable.

"I saw Dr. Johnson again," she stated, trying to get off the topic of Jonathan.

"Interesting," Phlox mused. "And did you learn anything new?"

She didn't want to go into any details about Margaret Mullin; that was something very private. She imagined Jonathan probably wouldn't be too happy about her knowing. "He told me more of his friendship with the captain, but it seems they lost touch not long after the captain graduated from flight school."

"Perhaps they'll rekindle their friendship upon the captain's return. I'm sure he'd like that."

"Perhaps."

They'd been walking around the museum for over two hours, so Phlox suggested they sit down for a while at the museum café and have a bite to eat. She wasn't hungry, thirsty or tired, despite her lack of sleep, but complied for her friend's sake.

"Are you well, T'Pol?" Phlox asked after devouring two large sandwiches and a generous portion of potato chips. He was now working on the lemon meringue pie.

"I'm fine, Doctor."

"You look a little pale. Perhaps you are tired?"

"I feel fine."

"Have you been sleeping well? Not neglecting your meditation I hope?"

"I had a little difficulty sleeping last night," she confessed, knowing he wouldn't give up on the barrage of questions if she didn't at least give him something to work with.

"Something on your mind?"

"Not particularly."

"T'Pol, I appreciate you like to keep things to yourself, but if there's anything you need to get off your chest—"

"Yes, I know, Phlox. And I appreciate the offer." However kind Phlox was there was no way she was going to start divulging things like her feelings for the captain, or the letters she'd found.

"Very well."

He changed the subject and told her that two of his wives would be coming to Earth next week for a short visit.

"That is good news. I'm sure you are anticipating the event with pleasure."

"Yes, it will be good to see them. I'm surprised you didn't go back to Vulcan, T'Pol."

"I'm planning to, but I wanted to spend some time in San Francisco first."

"Any particular reason?" Phlox's curiosity seemed piqued.

Of course the real reason had been because she'd hoped to spend some personal time with Jonathan; instead he was off in Fiji with Rebecca. She thought for a moment then answered. "It's an interesting city and I'm only now beginning to appreciate it. When I was stationed at the Vulcan compound it wasn't looked upon favourably if we tried to spend time outside of its walls."

"That's a pity. Considering how your people wish to embrace diversity I would think that kind of exploration would be encouraged."

She didn't answer but took a sip of her fruit tea which she'd ordered. It seemed she'd managed to satisfy the doctor's curiosity. Glancing at his plate she saw that he'd finished eating his pie and suggested they continue perusing the different exhibits; that was if he'd rested enough. He agreed that he had.

T'Pol spent the rest of the day with the doctor. She gratefully accepted his invitation to dinner after finishing with the museum. She didn't care for going back to the apartment yet and appreciated his company.

After dinner they walked back together along the streets of San Francisco to Jonathan's apartment. The evening was damp and foggy and she drew her jacket around her to keep out the cold. However it had been her suggestion to walk. It wasn't raining any longer and she needed to stretch her legs and get some fresh air having spent most of the day indoors.

She said goodnight to Phlox outside the apartment building as he got into a taxi. She entered and made her way to the elevator and then exited when it reached the 12th floor.

Porthos was pleased to see her as she walked in, jumping around her legs enthusiastically. Glancing at his bowl she noted it was empty and was grateful that she'd thought to leave him something earlier. Opening the fridge door she took out the cheese and cut him a few slices, depositing them in said bowl.

She hung up her jacket in the closet and then noticed a red light flashing on the computer terminal. Someone had left her a message. In a few strides she was at the desk and taped a few keys for the message to play.

To her surprise Jonathan's face appeared on screen.

"Hi T'Pol, just thought I'd check in and see how things are with you and Porthos. I guess you're out. Hope all is well and that Porthos isn't being too much of a bother. Umm…well…everything's fine here…we're doing fine. Weather's great…been sailing and diving…you know the usual water sports kind of stuff. So…umm… guess I'll try you again tomorrow or if you wanna call me back…feel free."

She checked the time log and noted that he'd called about twenty minutes ago. If she had taken a taxi from the restaurant instead of walking back she'd have been here. She contemplated calling him back. It was 10:30pm here which meant it was 5:30pm there. He was probably getting ready to go out to dinner. No, she wouldn't bother him now, it could wait, or he could call her tomorrow. Besides, she didn't wish to appear eager to speak to him.

She played the message over again, listening to his voice and studying his face. He appeared to havegained some weight which suited him and he looked healthier. He was rather tanned probably having spent a lot of time in the sun. But something bothered her. The message sounded stilted and he appeared nervous.

Also, while he claimed that everything was fine, she felt this was more of a show than anything else. Her instincts told her that nothing had changed – if all he'd done was sweep his guilt and feelings under the proverbial rug then as soon as he returned to San Francisco or for that matter took up command of Enterprise he'd have to deal with all of it head on.

That's what worried her the most.

She watched it a third time and then chided herself for doing so. Did she really miss him that much that she had to watch the message three times? How unVulcan and weak of her! But was it weak to love him? She comforted herself by remembering what V'Lar had told her aboard Enterprise – that they were their emotions as well. Surely she wasn't the first Vulcan to ever be emotionally attached to a man, though she probably was the first to love a human.

She switched off the computer and made herself some camomile tea. Taking the copy of _Jane Eyre_ off the shelf she continued to read from where she'd left off. For now thoughts of Jonathan were pushed aside as she immersed herself in the fictitious tale of Rochester and Jane.

_TBC_


	20. Chapter 20

**Redemption**

**Chapter 20**

Jonathan yawned as his eyes opened and he focused on the bedside clock which read 10:30am. He pulled back the covers and climbed out of bed. Feeling thirsty he made his way to the kitchen to get some juice.

He'd forgotten Cynthia was going to be there and came face to face with her as he walked in hair askew and dressed only in PJ bottoms. He noticed she was smiling to herself as he walked past.

"Morning, Jon," Rebecca greeted, smiling as well. He knew both of them were rather amused by his appearance and it made him feel self-conscious.

"I won't be bothering you ladies, just wanted to get some juice," he said, hoping to make a fast exit. He opened the fridge, found the orange juice and poured himself a glass.

"Don't leave on my account," Cynthia answered.

"Surely you'll have breakfast with us, Jon," Rebecca added.

"Yeah, okay …as soon as I get dressed." He left them, hearing muffled giggles as he closed his bedroom door. You'd think they'd never seen a man shirtless before the way they were acting!

He showered, shaved and dressed. After combing his hair he checked his reflection in the mirror to ensure he was presentable. He didn't want there to be anything about his appearance that Rebecca and her guest could tease him about.

He noted they were both sitting outside on the deck chatting enthusiastically. He went out to join them.

"Ah nice of you to join us," Rebecca said as he sat down.

"You sure you two wouldn't rather be alone and—"

"And what, Jon?" she enquired.

"I don't know, talk about stuff women normally talk about. What's it called? Girl talk." He wasn't in the mood to make small talk with Cynthia.

"Oh, I see," Rebecca mused. "You're saying you don't particularly wish to hear us talking about your muscular chest, taut abdomen, or cute butt?" she teased.

He turned crimson. Rebecca was doing this on purpose and enjoying every minute of it!

"Take it as a compliment, Jon," she added.

He couldn't think up anything funny or sarcastic in response, so said nothing. He sat down at the table and poured himself a glass of juice.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

"Yeah, fine. You?"

"Great. I was just telling Cynthia how I found you asleep on the couch last night. The party must have worn you out."

Why would she share such boring details?

"I guess." He sipped at his juice and surveyed what was available to eat for breakfast. There was a bowl of sliced melon pieces, a jug of milk, 2 bowls of cereal to choose from, croissants, Danishes, yogurt and a large pot of coffee.

"I can make you some eggs, if you like," Rebecca offered. He declined. That would entail her leaving him alone with Cynthia. It was a really bright morning and he had to keep squinting so excused himself for a moment while he went back to his room to retrieve a pair of sunglasses.

"Nice sunglasses," Cynthia noted when he returned. "They frame your face well."

"Thanks."

"Though I'll confess it's a shame to hide those lovely emerald eyes of yours."

Embarrassed again he smiled and muttered thanks under his breath. What was with the two of them this morning? He wondered if they'd plotted this while he was in the shower – how to make him uncomfortable.

He decided to start with some melon and placed a few slices on an empty plate. "What's the weather like in London this time of year?" he asked Cynthia. He hadn't wanted to make small talk, but if it kept the subject off his physical attributes he'd damn well make the effort.

"It's probably raining. We don't get much sun or warm weather till about May."

"Sounds like you need one of those weather modification networks like they have on Risa."

"Risa?" she asked.

"Oh it's a planet I went to once on vacation. Its natural climate is rather violent, but you wouldn't know it being there. It's a tropical paradise."

"Sounds nice, but then so is Fiji, and that's completely natural." She gave him a quizzical expression as if to say why would anyone go to an alien planet on vacation when Earth had its own natural beauty.

"Yes, but Earth isn't always en-route. Risa was. Besides I'm an explorer seeking out new worlds."

"Oh, well there is that."

"Who did you vacation with?" Cynthia asked.

"I went to Risa alone."

"Oh, that's kinda sad. Don't you have any friends onboard Enterprise?"

"I enjoy being alone with a few books for company." Cynthia didn't look convinced. "To be honest I did met someone on the planet, but it didn't work out."

"You did?" piped in Rebecca. "Tell us more, Jon. Was she one of those exotic aliens with green skin, you know the ones you've always fantasized about?"

He rolled his eyes at that comment. "There's not much to tell. We spent two evenings together; went for a walk on the beach and then I discovered she was a Tandaran spy. She disappeared without a word when I confronted her with that." He didn't add that Keyla had drugged him.

"Hmm…doesn't sound like a relaxing vacation to me," Rebecca commented.

"No, it didn't turn out that way."

He poured himself some coffee and tried one of the croissants. Rebecca asked Cynthia where she and Antonio had left off last night. Jonathan was thankful he was being left out of the conversation. He'd finish with breakfast and go for a swim. The ocean looked very inviting this morning.

A few minutes later he excused himself and announced his intention to go for a dip.

"Jon, I'm taking Cynthia to the airport in half an hour. You could wait until then."

"I'm sure you ladies will be much better off without me. Cynthia, I wish you a safe flight home. It was nice meeting you."

Cynthia stood up from the table and kissed him on the cheek. "It was lovely meeting you, Jonathan."

He smiled awkwardly and left.

* * *

He left the house through the front entrance and then walked around the side of it to access the beach therefore avoiding any awkward confrontation with Rebecca or Cynthia. He wouldn't have had any qualms about walking past Rebecca, it was just that her friend seemed to make him a little uneasy. He didn't know how to act around a woman who had a crush on him; it wasn't something he was accustomed to. Also he didn't want to give them any more ammunition for teasing and he was only dressed in a pair of swimming trunks.

He'd brought his face mask and snorkel with him, putting them on as he ran into the beckoning ocean.

He swam out further than usual. The ocean was almost as exciting as exploring space. It was a whole world waiting to be discovered. As he dove beneath the surface he marveled at the array of coral and the different species of multi-colored fish. The underwater world was just as colorful as the one on land. Exploration made him feel alive and momentarily happy. Troubling thoughts didn't seem to bother him while he was down here.

When he'd worn himself out, he swam slowly back to shore. Feeling tired, he lay on the beach soaking up the sun and drying out. As he'd come out of the water he'd glanced in the direction of house noting the balcony was empty so he guessed Rebecca and Cynthia had already left.

He pondered as to what time Rebecca would return. She hadn't said whether she'd stay in town after dropping her friend off at the airport. Maybe she'd left him a note.

The day wore on with no sign of Rebecca. He had a late lunch, went for a walk, returned to the house and read some old Enterprise reports he needed to catch up on. He'd thrown them into his luggage at the last minute. He hadn't anticipated getting around to them, but on the off-chance that he'd have some time alone he'd packed them.

The first one he came across was written by T'Pol. It was a log of hers, made as acting captain while he'd been off destroying the Xindi weapon. He read it with interest. Then he came across the part where she reported his demise.

_With regret Lieutenant Reed informed me that Captain Archer hadn't had time to escape the weapon before it was destroyed. It will take the crew a lengthy amount of time to adjust to this. For the time being I will continue as acting captain, though I am uncertain as to whether this arrangement will continue upon our return to Earth. _

_I had a meeting with the Xindi humanoid commander who expressed his sympathies in regards to our loss, informing me that the captain's sacrifice would not be forgotten amongst his people. Indeed it will not…_

The rest of the log was more factual explaining how the Aquatic vessel would have them home in less than a day.

T'Pol had been upset. He knew her well enough to read between the lines. The log wasn't as detailed as others he'd read. She was normally meticulous, providing information on even the smallest occurrence. This seemed to skimp on such details.

There was nothing surprising about the fact that she cared. Hadn't she made that point over and over in San Francisco? But he'd seemed to dismiss it. Mulling it over now he wondered exactly what she meant. Did care mean love in Vulcan terms? She was his friend as well as his first officer – friends cared for each other. However she'd seemed to indicate a romantic interest in him of late. He put down the log wishing now that he hadn't come across it.

He sighed. Running away wasn't the answer. He'd been here a week and he could clearly see now that coming to Fiji hadn't changed a thing. It had just delayed the inevitable. All the feelings of frustration, doubt and guilt that had plagued him in San Francisco were still there, he'd just pushed them aside when he could.

And he still loved T'Pol. That one definitely wasn't going away. So what was he supposed to do? He felt like he was in limbo. And he didn't have any answers. One thing he did know – as beautiful as this place was, however pleasant the tropical breezes were, and however kind Rebecca was – it changed nothing.

It was time to face facts and stop running away. How he was going to accomplish this he had no idea, but he acknowledged that the answers weren't here on Fiji. He lifted himself up off the bed where he'd been sitting and walked into the living room. He switched on the computer to see if any shuttle flights to San Francisco were available for tomorrow.

There was one seat left on the 12pm flight tomorrow. He booked it without hesitation. Then he decided to call T'Pol, probably best that she know he was coming home.

As he taped in the keys to contact her he felt a knot developing in his stomach. He hated feeling nervous about contacting her. He waited for the comm channel to connect through to his apartment, but there was no response. After about 20 seconds an automated message came on and he acknowledged that T'Pol wasn't home.

He wondered whether he should leave a message or not. In the end he fumbled through one. He'd failed to tell her the real reason for his calling. Instead he'd stated he was fine, hoped she and Porthos were the same and that she could either call him back or he'd call again tomorrow.

He chided himself for his stupidity. What an idiot he was! What had he been afraid of? That he'd tell her he was coming home and she'd run off at the first chance she had? Maybe. He was pathetic. Perhaps she'd return the call and he could explain better. He hoped so.

He heard a car pull up and moments later the front door opened. "Jon, I'm back," Rebecca announced.

* * *

They drove into Suva for dinner, deciding on a small Italian place right on the beach.

Jonathan bit into a piece of garlic bread as he waited for his tagliatelle to be served. He decided to breach the subject of leaving to Rebecca.

"I've got some news," he started.

"Oh?"

"Don't take it personally. You've been a great host and I've appreciated your company, but I'm leaving for San Francisco tomorrow."

"Maybe it's a good idea."

"Really?" He was surprised at her reaction.

"Jon, I've loved having you around here, but I feel as if whatever I do I'm not making any headway. When I originally invited you I admit I did want that scoop along with spending a relaxing time with a dear friend, but now I can see it probably wasn't the best idea I've ever had."

"It's not your fault."

"I know that. What will you do in San Francisco?"

"I don't know. But there doesn't seem much point in staying here."

"Can I offer a friendly suggestion?"

He nodded. "Sort things out with T'Pol."

"Rebecca—"

"If you recall last night before you fell asleep you agreed not to deny how you felt about her any longer."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he shrugged. "If you say I did, I must have. But it's complicated."

"Jonathan, what relationship isn't? My gut instinct is that you love her very much. Maybe she's the one who can help you."

"She already tried."

"And let me guess…you pushed her away, were rude to her, and told her there could be nothing between you?"

"Worse."

"What do you mean worse?"

"I insinuated there was something going on between you and me."

"Jon! Why would you do such a thing?"

"I wanted to protect her…it seemed the noble thing to do at the time."

"Why would she need to be protected?"

"Cause I'm bad news. She probably cares for someone who doesn't even exist. I'm not him anymore…I'm some guy who does unspeakable things and then doesn't get punished for them."

"I assume she's aware of these unspeakable things as you call them?"

"Yes."

"And she still tried to help you?"

"Yes."

"If she's not condemning you, why not give yourself a chance? Why not give the two of you that chance?" she asked.

"Rebecca, it's not that simple."

"It seems clear cut to me."

"Oh you're just talking through your rose colored glasses. You think you're doing me a favor by playing match maker. Remember that date you set me up with once?"

"Okay I admit that blind date with Paula was a mistake, but you can't compare that to T'Pol. She's someone you've known for a few years and who has served at your side all this time."

The waiter arrived with their food. Jonathan dug into his pasta which was delicious.

"Are you going to stay here on your own?" Jonathan asked, hoping the topic of T'Pol was laid to rest for now.

"Probably, but if my editor finds out you've already left he might curtail my trip."

"Oh I'm sorry." He hadn't thought of that. "Think he'll find out?"

"Don't know. But I think once he discovers I didn't get my exclusive he's gonna be livid. If he then learns I stayed here for a week after you'd left, I'm guessing he'd take the villa costs out of my salary. I suppose that's only fair."

"Let me pay for it, it's the least I can do."

"Don't worry about it Jon, we humble reporters earn more than you think," she answered with a twinkle in her eye.

"Rebecca, let me, okay? I'd like to. No reason for you to return on my account and you seem to be enjoying yourself here. I'd like to make it up to you, especially after being such a miserable companion."

"You haven't been that bad."

"Now you're just being kind and trying to spare my feelings."

She smiled, reaching across the table to touch his hand. "Whatever happens, you know I'm always here for you – even if I am on the other side of the planet reporting a story."

"I know and I appreciate it. You're a great friend, Rebecca."

She raised her glass in a toast. "To friendship," she said and they clinked glasses.

* * *

After dinner Rebecca suggested a stroll along the beach. It was after 8pm but it was still light. The sky was a beautiful mix of orange and red and the sun was beginning to set.

This was the more commercial part of the island with the beach fronted by high rise hotels and resorts. Back at the villa one could walk along the shore in solitude for some distance, but here there were many people milling about. Some were walking like he and Rebecca, others sat in deck chairs reading or just watching the world go by. A girl and her pet dog were playing with a Frisbee.

Two young men in wetsuits scrambled out of the water with their surfboards after a day of surfing. A few children were still busy constructing sand castles as their proud parents looked on.

Jonathan glanced out onto the water and was surprised to see a small inflatable dingy so far from shore. He put his hand up to his eyes to shield it from the setting sun and took a better look. Upon closer inspection he could make out two small figures in the boat. It was irresponsible to be out that far, if the current was strong it would sweep them out to sea.

"What you looking at?" Rebecca asked.

"That dingy, I've got a bad feeling about it. It shouldn't be out so far." Jonathan didn't have a clue as to how prophetic his words were but a moment after he'd uttered them he heard a loud cry.

"Help! He can't swim!"

His head jerked in the direction of the cry. Someone had fallen into the water and was struggling to stay afloat, his arms flailing about. Without another thought, Jonathan tore off his pants and shirt and ran into the water.

His body sliced through the water at tremendous speed. As he approached he could see one young boy standing alone in the dingy looking very distraught. When he got to the inflatable craft, there was no sign of the boy who'd fallen in. The one in the boat was crying.

Jonathan dived below the surface in an attempt to find the missing boy. The current here was strong and he had to fight it every step of the way. Without his face mask the salt water stung his eyes. He swam in hope of finding a glimpse or a sign of something, but instead all he saw was an endless expanse of water. Pain and pressure was building up in his lungs as they begged for air. He had no choice but to resurface and draw breath. As soon as he'd done so he plunged to the depths once more.

The missing boy had to be somewhere, he couldn't have just disappeared. He swam deeper this time in hope of finding the youngster. He'd been about to give up and resurface once more when he caught sight of something. He swam in that direction and was rewarded. Yes it was him! The boy, who looked like he was peacefully sleeping, was floating down to the depths of the ocean. Jonathan caught hold of his sleeve and pulled him towards him. He then swam with urgency to the surface with the boy in tow.

The journey to the top seemed to take forever. His heart was racing so fast he could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. His eyes felt like someone had poured acid into them. None of this was important — saving this boy's life was. That's all that mattered, and with a singleness of mind he was determined to do it, willing his legs to kick harder, propelling him through the water faster.

As he broke through the surface he gasped for breath, filling his lungs to the hilt with air. He swam over to the dingy. The boy needed to be resuscitated and immediately. It couldn't wait until he got him to shore.

Surveying the small craft he determined it would only take two. "Help me get him in," he instructed the other boy. With his help Jonathan managed to deposit the unconscious young man into the boat.

"Is he dead?" asked the boy in-between sobs.

"Not if I can help it," Jonathan replied. He instructed the conscious boy to get out of the boat and hang onto the side while he climbed in and tried to get the other one breathing again.

"I can't swim either," the boy confessed.

"Just hold onto the side, you'll be fine. The boat can't take all three of us. Trust me, okay?"

The boy nodded and did as instructed. Jonathan hauled himself over the edge, careful not to overturn the dingy. He leaned over the young boy and breathed life-giving air into his lungs. He did this several times before turning him over onto his stomach and applying pressure to his upper back with his hands. He hoped to expel any water that was lodged in his lungs. Flipping him back he continued to breathe into the boy's mouth.

"You can do this," he said, repeating the words like a mantra. The words were more for himself than the unconscious lad. It seemed to encourage him to continue.

The boy had to live. He wasn't going to tell some unsuspecting parent that their child was dead. Not another death; he'd had his fill of those and the letters to the parents of the many crewmembers who'd died in the Expanse.

This was going to be different. Here he was going to save a life — do something good for a change.

As the minutes rolled past tiny doubts began to gnaw at him. Why wasn't this working? He'd administered the resuscitation techniques they'd taught him in Starfleet, was there something he'd forgotten? He couldn't think of anything and continued, trying to ignore the doubts.

Two minutes later and Jonathan's hold on hope was beginning to slip away. "Breathe, dammit!" he yelled. "Breathe!" Then and there the boy coughed up a small amount of water and opened his eyes.

"Thank God," he whispered. "That's it; cough it all up," he instructed.

Jonathan told him to sit upright. He waited a few minutes to ascertain that he could breathe on his own then instructed the other boy to jump back in and he'd tow them back to shore.

Rebecca greeted them all with towels. A group of onlookers had gathered on the beach. A couple ran up to them embracing both boys and scolding them at the same time. The gentleman approached Archer.

"I'm in your debt, sir. You saved my son's life." He offered his hand which Jonathan shook.

"I'm glad I could have helped."

"If it hadn't been for you, who knows what might have happened."

"It was pretty dangerous to be out that far, especially if you can't swim."

"Believe me, neither one of them is going in the water again. I strictly forbade them to use that dingy without our supervision."

"Thank you, sir." He heard a quiet frightened voice below him. Looking down he spied the boy whose life he'd just saved. Crouching down to his height Jonathan said "You're a lucky young man, you know?" The boy nodded. "What's your name?"

"Jonathan…Jonathan Atkins."

"Now that's quite a coincidence if you ask me. My name's Jonathan too." Then he remembered why the young boy had seemed familiar. This was the young lad from the _Sunset Princess_, the one who'd been racing his brother and tripped on the path at the marina.

The young boy blinked in surprise. "Are you Jonathan Archer?"

"Yes."

"Captain Archer," the boy's father began, "this is indeed quite an honor. Your reputation precedes you."

"I don't know about that," he answered straightening up.

Rebecca passed him his shirt and pants and he got dressed. "That was very heroic, Jon," she whispered.

"I only did what anyone else would do," he answered.

"Sarah!" the man called to his wife. "Come over here," he beckoned to her with some urgency. She rushed over with her older son.

Jonathan hoped this wasn't going to cause an incident. The last thing he needed or wanted was publicity. He was happy he could have helped out, but now he just wanted to disappear and get out of the limelight.

The wife approached. "Sarah, this is Captain Jonathan Archer, the man who saved Earth from the Xindi threat. And now he's saved our son!" She held her hand out to Jonathan who shook it.

"I'm immensely grateful Captain; I can't find words to express how I feel. We are so deeply honored to meet you. We hold you in such high esteem. You're the boys' hero. They have posters of you and your crew up in their bedrooms at home. "

Jonathan smiled but cringed inside. He hated being thanked for saving Earth. "I have a very apt and loyal crew; the mission would have failed without them."

Sarah and her husband smiled. "We're going to take Jonathan to the hospital to get him checked over, but we'd like a chance to show our gratitude, be it in some small way. Would you and your friend join us for dinner tomorrow evening?"

Jonathan was about to say he was leaving for San Francisco in the morning but decided against it. Not wanting to be rude, he accepted the invitation. He could change his flight for the next day without problem.

The boy's father took out a card and handed it to Jonathan. "I'm Jeremy Atkins, Captain. We're staying on the _Sunset Princess_ which is docked over at the marina. We'd love you to join us tomorrow around 6:30pm."

"Thank you." Jonathan introduced Rebecca to the boy's parents.

They thanked Archer once more and then left, Jeremy carrying his young son in his arms. Jonathan watched them wistfully. Rebecca touched his arm. "Wanna go home?"

"Sounds like an idea," he agreed.

_TBC_


	21. Chapter 21

**Redemption**

**Chapter 21**

Rebecca noticed that Jonathan seemed deep in thought as she put the key in the ignition. She didn't wish to bother him with a load of questions and left him to his thoughts. He was probably exhausted after the adrenaline rush. She placed a music disc of something classical in the player and started the car.

They entered the house and he mumbled something about taking a shower. She took off her shoes and went to the kitchen to get a cold drink. She poured herself a glass of cranberry juice depositing several ice cubes into it and was about to go out onto the deck when she heard a call coming through. She answered it.

"Rebecca, I thought I'd have heard from you by now. Just tell me you're on top of the current situation."

"Peter? What are you doing calling at this hour?" It was her editor and if her calculations were right it was after 2am back in San Francisco.

"Becca, I want this story on the front page — tomorrow's edition. So you better get your butt in gear and get writing, cause it's gonna be a long night. This story is hot news and you're writing the exclusive."

If he was referring to the Archer exclusive well he wasn't going to get that, though she hadn't told him that yet. However, he'd given her two weeks in Fiji to get it, why was he in such a rush now?

"I was under the impression I had more time."

"Where's Archer?"

"He's in the shower at the moment."

"Well you damn well better have the exclusive Rebecca, that's why I'm paying you the big bucks. You were at the scene right? I have to say I'm surprised you didn't call me first — why'd I have to hear this on another news service I'm sure I don't know."

Another news service? She had no idea what he meant and requested clarification.

"Don't you dare pull this! You are not selling this to some sleazy tabloid for double the price. So don't try being coy."

She was completely baffled by what he was saying. "Mind spelling it out? I haven't a clue what you're babbling about."

"The beach incident — it happened less than an hour ago and I'm already getting calls about it. Some waiter at the local restaurant witnessed the whole incident, recognized Archer and phoned it in to his local paper, and the story is already circulating. Archer saved some young boy from drowning. Where have you been all evening? Aren't you with Archer? That's what I'm paying you for!"

"Oh that." Hmm…Jonathan wasn't going to be pleased.

"What do you mean oh that? This is front page stuff! Do you know how fast that Starfleet captain of yours sells newspapers?"

"He's not my captain."

"Whatever. I'm just saying you damn well better get the interview and have it on my desk within the next two hours. This is too good to pass up — Earth's hero saves boy from drowning. Okay?"

"I can try, but he's not gonna want the publicity."

"Do you think I care what Archer wants? Use your wiles on him, wrap him around your finger…whatever it takes – I want that story!"

With that the conversation was over and the screen went blank. She sighed. What was she going to do? Could she convince Jonathan to give her an interview? From the sounds of it her job was on the line and if she didn't produce the goods she might find herself on the unemployment line.

Jonathan joined her at this point. "I have some news you might not like," she announced.

"Oh?"

"I've just heard that your rescue story is making the news."

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was. I'm sorry, Jonathan."

"You heard it on the TV?"

"No."

"Then how—"

"My editor from San Francisco just called. He's already heard about it."

"The story reached the States already? I can't believe it. It only happened about an hour ago."

"What can I say Jon? News travels fast. And with the kind of fame you attract nowadays — well you're very newsworthy."

"I thought at least here I wouldn't have to deal with this nonsense. In San Francisco it was expected. Believe me being hounded by reporters every time you try to walk inside Starfleet HQ really makes you resent the entire news organization and anyone associated with it."

She stood up and joined him by the patio doors touching his arm. "I do understand and I sympathise. But Jon, I could really do with your help."

"In regard to what?" he asked, seemingly puzzled.

"I'm in a jam and you're the only one who can get me out of it."

"Oh boy, let me guess? Your editor wants an exclusive?"

"Something along those lines."

"Rebecca, I already told you I wasn't going to give you an interview."

"Jon, this is different. I'm not asking you to reveal top secret Starfleet missions, only to talk about saving the Atkins boy. Is that really so much to ask?" She didn't think it was.

He looked as if he was thinking it through.

"What's the big deal? I mean it could have been anyone. It was pure coincidence that I was there."

"Yes, but you were there. And that's what makes it newsworthy."

"Doesn't make sense."

"I know…but still…will you Jon? For me?"

"You know I loathe the idea of more publicity, but I guess I do owe you this. You've put up with my crap for this last week and been a great friend." He paused then said, "Okay, I'll do it."

She hugged him in response and thanked him.

"There's a condition attached however."

"Okay, shoot."

"I need to call the boy's family up and make sure it's okay with them. They might not want to be named."

"I'm fine with that," she replied.

"I'll just give them a quick call." He sat down at the computer terminal.

The Atkins family were more than happy for Rebecca to do the interview, as Jon informed her after he'd finished talking to Jeremy Atkins. Apparently he'd already been contacted by two reporters, but out of respect for Archer's privacy hadn't corroborated the story.

So Rebecca got her exclusive. She sat with Jon in the living room for an hour, making notes on her laptop while he answered her questions and then put a story together. She let him read the first draft before sending it to her editor.

"Sounds fine," he said.

"Good! I'll tweak it a little and send it off. I'll tell Pete I'm gonna meet the young Atkins boy tomorrow, and if the parents are in agreement, I can do a small piece on him. That should butter him up enough, so when I get back to San Francisco he won't fire my sorry ass for not getting the Expanse exclusive from you."

"I had no idea my refusal would put your job on the line."

"Okay, well maybe I'm exaggerating a bit," she smiled. "At least this will soften the blow."

"Hope so."

She reread the concluding paragraph of the interview and moved a few words around. She glanced up at Jon who seemed to be staring into space. "You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"You seem lost in your own thoughts."

"I guess I am. It's been a long day." He sat down next to her on the couch. "You know at one point I almost gave up. I thought he wasn't going to make it. I thought I was doing it all wrong. He just lay there, lifeless and I imagined having to tell his parents he was dead." He paused, taking a breath.

"Rebecca, I don't think I could. I don't think I can ever tell another parent, brother, sister, husband or wife that their loved one is dead. It's supposed to get easier the more you do it. That's such a damn lie. It doesn't."

She gripped his hand and felt him tighten the hold. "How many did you lose, Jon?" she asked in a whisper.

"Too many. God, it was awful. All those body bags in Sickbay and I couldn't do a damn thing! All the negotiations in the universe weren't going to bring my dead crewmembers back to life. I'd sit in my Ready Room trying to think of something comforting and sympathetic to tell their families – how they'd died defending Earth and all that spiel. My words felt utterly hollow and meaningless. How could a letter like that comfort anyone?"

"It's hard to find the right words in these kinds of situations. I'm sure you did your best," she said trying to offer him some comfort.

"I did what I was trained to do. There's a class in Starfleet that's supposed to prepare you for this. Only it doesn't tell you how inadequate and helpless you'll feel. And how the guilt will almost consume you as you realize if it wasn't for your orders these young men and women would still be breathing."

She could hear he was starting to get choked up.

"My orders, dammit! I sent them to their deaths."

"And would it be any different if you'd died because of an order given to you? I'm sure Admiral Forrest would feel the same. It's part of the job, Jon. It comes with the territory. Your crewmembers knew what they were signing up for."

"How can you look at it in such a calculating fashion?" he asked bitterly.

"I'm not; I was attempting to make you feel better."

"Well don't."

"Okay, I'm sorry." It appeared that she'd managed to upset him yet again. But his nerves were raw – he couldn't help it.

"Listen, I'm going to bed," he told her. "I'm spent, emotionally and physically."

"Okay, I understand."

"Could you do me a favour?"

"Sure."

"I need to rebook my flight, since we're having dinner with the Atkins tomorrow. Can you book me on a Thursday flight instead?"

"Of course. Any particular time?"

"I don't mind. Anything's that's available." She nodded. "Night, Jon."

"Night."

He shut his bedroom door behind him and she turned her attention to the interview on the laptop. She read it through a few more times; editing bits here and there and when she was finally satisfied sent it through to the San Francisco office. She sighed with relief; Pete would get his exclusive after all.

* * *

T'Pol and Porthos were out walking in the direction of a nearby park when something caught her attention. Glancing across the street, she thought she saw what looked like Jonathan's photograph on a small billboard outside a store. Next to it were written the words "Earth's Hero Saves Boy While on Vacation". She crossed the street and went to investigate.

Her eyes had not deceived her. The store was selling copies of the San Francisco Globe and Jonathan was the main headline. She entered the store, leaving Porthos outside for a moment tethered to a street lamp. She purchased the paper copy of the newspaper, though a handy computer padd with the full edition was also on offer.

Her eyes scanned the front page: exclusive interview with Enterprise's Captain by Rebecca Summers. She continued to read about how Jonathan had saved an 8 year old boy's life.

_Captain Archer, a proficient swimmer in his own right, and the holder of several medals for water polo, is the epitome of modesty. He told me, "It's no big deal; I don't know what all the fuss is about. I was at the right place at the right time; that's all. It could have been anyone. I'm just glad I could have helped."_

The article went into detail on the incident explaining that Jonathan had jumped into the water as soon as he'd heard cries for help and how he'd resuscitated the boy out at sea in an inflatable dingy. She raised an eyebrow as she visualized this scene. It certainly sounded like Jonathan. It was also a newsworthy article — the paper would be pleased with their sales today.

How did he feel about all the extra publicity? He must have consented to the article, after all Rebecca had penned it. His notoriety would go up a few notches now; maybe he'd stay in Fiji a bit longer just to avoid being harassed upon his return to San Francisco. Though she imagined the story must be all over the islands by now — he was probably some local celebrity there.

She returned to Porthos and untied him, continuing to walk towards the park. Entering the park she set Porthos free to run around and stretch his legs while she seated herself on a bench and perused the rest of the article.

Porthos came to see her at the bench with a stick in his mouth, dropping it at her feet. She was accustomed to this familiar ritual by now. She picked it up and threw it for him. This occurred several times until the canine was bored with it. She reattached the lead to his collar and they strolled around the nearby lake. Convinced that Porthos had received sufficient exercise for today they headed back to the apartment.

She'd just shut the door behind her in the apartment when a call came through. She dashed to the viewscreen, thinking it might be Jonathan. When Admiral Forrest's face appeared, she felt a tinge of disappointment.

"Good afternoon, Admiral."

"T'Pol, sorry for not getting back to you sooner — I want to let you know that I'd spoken to the Starfleet council about your proposal regarding the Illyrians."

"They declined?"

"Not exactly. Before I go into that — have I heard correctly about Jonathan? I'll admit I'm a bit out of the loop. I've been in my office trying to catch up on a stack of reports and my secretary tells me she heard something about Jonathan on the news."

"I believe the news reports are correct, Admiral."

"He seems to have a knack for attracting the news, doesn't he? I bet he won't be able to get off the shuttle when it lands in San Francisco without being hounded by reporters."

"That is indeed a possibility."

"Have you heard from him, T'Pol?"

"He contacted me last night, but I was out so he left a message. He was merely enquiring about his dog. He said he'd call back."

"Okay. I hope he's enjoying his vacation even with the new fame."

T'Pol wondered what was going in Fiji. Could he go out on the beach without being stopped by locals and tourists asking for autographs? Could he go to dinner without being bothered? Was he all right? How was he dealing with all of this?

"As for your request," Forrest continued, "well I'm afraid I got mixed reactions from the council. A few of them are rather hesitant about requesting help from the Xindi, and the rest didn't feel we had the resources to send a ship into the Expanse looking for the Illyrian crew. They were, to put it bluntly, not of the opinion that it was worth the time and effort in trying to accomplish what they felt was an almost impossible task."

"Should I take that to mean no?" She was disappointed but if she was honest with herself she hadn't anticipated a different response. At least she'd tried, she told herself in consolation.

"They agreed to give it some more thought and when we reconvene next week we'll discuss it further. But I thought I should let you know, I don't hold out much hope. Sorry."

"Thank you for trying, Admiral. Your help is appreciated."

Forrest ended the call by saying he'd keep in touch and keep her updated on any developments. She turned off the computer terminal and checked the time. It was just after 1pm. She toyed with the idea of calling Archer…it was only 8am in Fiji; he might not be up yet. Perhaps she'd call him later.

Porthos had eaten what was left in his bowl and gone to lie down in his basket for his afternoon siesta. T'Pol changed out of her clothes into something loose fitting and set up candles and a mat for meditation. After meditating she'd make some lunch. Right now, she needed to calm and center herself.

* * *

Jonathan lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He'd been awake for the last hour after waking up from one of his weird dreams. In it he'd re-enacted yesterday's incident with a few changes.

The frantic swimming out into the ocean to save the young boy, diving down into the dark ocean depths looking for anything, a flash of clothing, a head of hair – all of that was the same. But the dream differed in that he'd needed to surface for air several times. On the third time he noticed that his mother was the one sat in the dingy, her eyes red and swollen from crying. What was she doing there?

"Did you find him?" she asked. He shook his head in response. He knew he'd have to swim down to the bottom to find the boy. Taking the deepest breath he could muster he propelled himself into the water and into the dark watery abyss.

It took almost a minute to get to the bottom and there finally he found what he'd been looking for. Lying on the sandy seabed was the body of a young boy who looked to be around 8 or 9 years old. He picked him up carefully from the ocean floor and swam with urgency to the surface.

In the next scene he was walking onto the shore and he placed the boy gently on the sand. Leaning over him he blinked in disbelief. How could this be? Was his mind playing tricks on him? It wasn't possible! Lying before him was a much younger version of himself – Jonathan Archer at 8 years old. Fear gripped his soul. He started to breathe into the boy's lungs and continued for several minutes but to no avail.

"It's too late, Jonathan," he heard a voice he'd know anywhere. "You can't save yourself. It's too late."

Jerking his head upwards he saw his father standing over him and the boy. "I can," Jonathan protested. "You're wrong. I can save him."

"That part of you is dead, Jon. You killed it, remember?"

"Nooo!" he protested. "Don't say that!"

"You said you didn't care…that you wouldn't let your morality get in the way. Are you having a change of heart, son?"

"I didn't mean it. I didn't know what I was saying," he protested. "Help me, Dad."

"I can't help you retrieve your innocence, Jonathan. It's gone…forever. In the same way you can't bring back to life the drowned corpse at your feet."

"But he's me; he's who I was once. I can't have destroyed that."

"You crossed the line, Jon. You made choices. You can't undo them now. Better to face facts and move on."

"I didn't have a choice! I was backed into a corner."

"If it makes you feel better to say that, Jon."

"What would you have done, Dad?"

"I'm not here to appease your conscience, Jon."

"I don't know what to do, I'm so lost."

Henry shrugged his shoulders at that statement. Jonathan turned his attention back to the younger version of himself and started CPR once more. He had to save the boy, correction, he had to save himself. There had to be a way to find that part of him he'd lost.

After several minutes he realized there was no hope and acknowledged defeat. He slowly stood up, feeling a great heaviness in his chest and a lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. He looked around but there was no sign of his father.

"Jonathan." A voice full of warmth and comfort addressed him.

He turned his head and saw T'Pol standing before him. She held her hand out to him. "Let me help you. Come with me."

"You should go."

"I am not going anywhere without you."

"Don't you see? I'm poison! Look!" he exclaimed, pointing to the dead body. "I did that. I killed him. I killed me." He was fighting to hold back the sobs.

T'Pol approached the boy and crouched down to him. She placed her hand over his heart and his eyes flickered opened. He sat upright and when T'Pol offered her hand stood up with her help. He smiled at her asking if he knew her. "Not yet," she explained, "but one day you will." She told him to go home to his father.

Jonathan watched his younger self walk off into the distance. "I don't understand."

"He was only sleeping."

"But—"

"Trust me, he wasn't dead."

"T'Pol?"

"The person you were before the Expanse still exists. Believe that."

And then he'd woken up.

He'd spent the last hour mulling it over, trying to decipher the images presented to him. It seemed his subconscious was trying to tell him something: that he wasn't such a bad guy after all. Or was it just trying to make him feel better? He sighed not knowing the answer. Maybe he should tell Rebecca about it – she was much better at this psycho-analysing sort of thing. It was puzzling how the dream had started out dark and then with the appearance of T'Pol had turned positive.

He wasn't foolish enough to believe that just going back to San Francisco and spending time with T'Pol was going to make everything all right. She would agree with him on that point and kindly suggest he seek professional help again. Perhaps that was the answer, though he loathed the idea. How could he open up to a stranger? Some people found it easy to bare their soul, but not Jonathan Archer. He found it hard to open up to friends.

Friends…suddenly he remembered that Steve Johnson had studied psychiatry. Was that his speciality now? T'Pol hadn't mentioned it. He recalled Steve mentioning that was his interest years ago. Would he want to talk to Steve? It would be weird, but it might be a kind of compromise. Steve wasn't a complete stranger, but he didn't know him that well either. Hmm…the idea still didn't appeal to him. Besides what would talking it out to Steve or any other mind doctor do? Getting it off your chest was supposed to help, but in this case Jonathan didn't see how. He could talk till he was hoarse, it wouldn't save the Illyrians.

So what was he supposed to do? Concentrating on the aliens he'd stranded might be a start. He needed to speak to Forrest and see if there was some way a rescue could be mounted. Maybe T'Pol could help in that area and it would be a way for them to work together, if she was willing.

His thoughts wandered back to the Atkins boy. When he'd spoken to his father, Jeremy, last night he'd enquired as to how he was. Jeremy had assured him that his son was well — the docs at the local hospital had checked him over and he was none the worse for wear. Jonathan Atkins had been a lucky lad. It could easily have turned out differently. He wondered how he'd ended up in the water in the first place. Perhaps he'd lost balance. He could ask him this evening when he joined the family on their yacht.

While he felt bad about most of the stuff he'd done in the last year, this one incident was positive. He'd saved a life. The people of Earth felt indebted to him for saving Earth, but that didn't give him satisfaction. Besides he wasn't solely responsible for that – many people had played their part in that outcome – many had lost their life in pursuit of it.

It was almost symbolic — in rescuing the young Jonathan he'd felt like he was rescuing himself. Ever since returning to Earth he'd felt plagued by the guilt over the Illyrians. He'd slowly been drowning in that guilt, sinking deeper and deeper in his own figurative ocean. T'Pol, Phlox, Rebecca and Forrest had all attempted to bring him back to the surface, but he hadn't wanted to. He'd had no reason to resurface.

For the first time since returning to Earth he actually felt good about himself. He'd saved a young man's life — if he hadn't been there on that beach at that precise moment Jonathan Atkins might not be alive. And that knowledge made him feel good about himself.

Maybe that's why the dream had ended on a positive note. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. He felt confused — he was doing a lousy job of impersonating Freud. He should write it off as his conscience releasing stress. And he'd probably dreamt of T'Pol as he was eager to see her and looking forward to their reunion. In a way his dream was telling him that if he was with her he'd feel better. That was easy to believe – she'd always made him feel better. She'd rescued him plenty of times literally and figuratively.

He only hoped she'd be pleased to see him and that he somehow could patch things up between them. Would she forgive him for his previous behaviour?

She'd forgiven him over the Illyrians even after the outburst in his Ready Room. He'd never seen her angry before and been quite taken aback by her smashing the padd across his desk. But she'd made her point, and it had fed his guilt and spurred his conscience into reminding him that if he did this he'd have to live with it for the rest of his life.

Yet later that evening, after the raid, she'd come to see him and been nothing but sympathetic. It was late at night and he hadn't been able to sleep. Every muscle in his body ached. He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes from shutting but he knew that lying down on his bed would be more painful than standing up, especially after the beating Dolim had given him the previous day.

His ribs cried out in protest every time he inhaled or exhaled. His head throbbed like someone was pounding nails into it. His wrists were sore, the skin peeling around the area where the restraints had held him and rubbed them raw.

He knew he could contact Phlox who'd administer enough pain meds to knock him out for the night, but he didn't feel he deserved it. He took the pain as part of his punishment. As he watched the stars warp past his window he was conscious of the fact that they were being powered by something that didn't belong to them. His abdomen ached – his gut was knotted up from the stress of the raid and now the accompanying guilt.

It was just after midnight when he'd heard someone at the door. He assumed it was either Phlox coming to check on him and administer medication or Trip, another insomniac who would make some excuse about wanting company, when in truth he was checking up on him.

When he answered the door and found his first officer on the other side he was more than surprised.

"Captain, I realize it is late, but—"

"Come in, T'Pol," he invited not wanting to leave her standing in the corridor at this time of night.

When he noticed her eyes on his naked torso, examining the various bruises, he felt self-conscious and put a T-shirt on.

"You must be in pain, Captain," she noted.

"It's worse than it looks." He'd tried to make light of it, wishing she hadn't seen his injuries.

"You should have let Phlox examine you earlier."

"He had more serious patients to attend to."

"Yes, but you could have gone back later when he'd treated those."

"I'm fine, T'Pol."

"You don't need to lie to me."

"What makes you think I am?"

"You are always putting on a brave show, acting as if everything is fine, when in truth, you don't believe that at all."

"Would you rather I go to pieces in front of the crew?" he snapped, then regretted it. "I'm sorry, T'Pol."

"No apology necessary. We are alone; there is no need to pretend."

"Oh, okay. Then I admit I'm in pain, but I'll live with it."

"Because it's a form of penance?"

There were times when she rendered him speechless with her intuition. How was it that she read him so well? He couldn't hide a thing from her.

She walked over to the window where he was standing. Taking his hand in hers she examined his wrist. "You were in restraints?"

He nodded. "I could get some ointment from Phlox if you wish."

"There's no need," he said. "But thank you," he added. He wondered what she was doing here. Since entering the Expanse he'd barely had a moment alone with her – their friendship seemed a thing of the past. From what he heard she spent her off-hours with Trip.

"If you need to talk about what happened—"

"The Illyrian ship or my run in with the Xindi?"

"Both."

"What about you T'Pol? You were in a stressful battle. Who do you talk to?"

"I meditated this evening, as you suggested."

"Did it help?"

"A little, yes."

"But not entirely?"

"One cannot simply erase the stress of such events with one evening of meditation."

"Agreed," he said. "In the same way talking about the Illyrians or what occurred on Azati Prime is not going to make it all go away for me."

"I see. I was under the impression that humans found it therapeutic to open up to a friend."

He sighed and stared out the window. "Are you my friend, T'Pol?"

"How could you doubt that, Captain?"

"Oh I don't know. That little incident in my office today…you're not obligated to like me or my decisions, T'Pol. There's no rule that says first officer and captain have to be best buddies. And I would understand if your opinion of me of late has gone down several notches."

"I acted unprofessionally earlier today, Captain. I was overwrought, suffering from lack of meditation and sleep and not thinking clearly. I apologize."

"I'm sorry I made you do something against your conscience." It was bad enough that he'd done it, but he'd forced T'Pol, Malcolm, Trip and the rest of the crew to do something that probably turned their stomachs. He'd never forget the look on Reed's face when he'd first relayed to him his orders.

"Captain, at the time I was more concerned about your conscience and it seems my fear was not unfounded."

"What do you mean?"

"I believe you are more troubled by your actions than you thought you would be."

"Perhaps." He turned to face her. "Was there something specific you wanted to see me about, T'Pol?" he asked, being curious about her visit and what had initiated it.

"I wished to see how you were."

"Oh."

"As a good friend would."

He didn't feel he deserved that. "I appreciate the concern."

"And you are wrong about me disliking you. Vulcans do not make friends easily, especially amongst other species. But once they do they are loyal for life."

Her words warmed his heart. He'd missed her and their talks, the quiet evenings they used to spend together. Why had he permitted their friendship to wane? Why hadn't he fought for it?

He allowed himself to look into her eyes…warm and welcoming. She was the picture of serenity and beauty. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her in his arms – to make the pain and guilt go away, albeit momentarily. But he dare not. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable and he couldn't deal with rejection tonight.

He was startled when he felt her hand on his shoulder. She rarely touched him. He'd been surprised when she'd held his wrist a few moments ago. "If I can be of any help, Captain—"

"I'll let you know," he cut her off. It was probably best that she leave before he did something stupid and made a fool of himself.

"I don't mean just as your second in command. I would like to be there as your friend, if you'll let me."

"I won't forget. Thank you, T'Pol."

She bid him goodnight and left. He sat down on the bed and buried his head in his hands. "If you only knew…" he muttered under his breath.

He'd never taken her up on the offer of friendship. After meeting up with Degra things moved at a faster pace than ever. For the most part he ignored the physical pain from his injuries. And he didn't have time to think about the emotional pain his actions brought on. His mind raced, trying to out manoeuvre the Xindi Reptilians and make one last attempt to save Earth. It wasn't till he'd returned to his home planet that his conscience and guilt had caught up with him.

He felt hungry and decided to go make some breakfast. He tip-toed into the kitchen, mindful not to make too much noise as he assumed Rebecca was still asleep. It was only 7am.

He made himself some coffee and toast then checked the computer to see if Rebecca had changed his booking to San Francisco. She had, and he was scheduled to take the flight to San Francisco tomorrow at 2pm local time.

Tomorrow he'd see T'Pol, he'd get to talk to her, hopefully get a chance to apologize and explain. He smiled to himself at the thought of seeing her. And it would be good to see Porthos; he'd missed his beagle pal.

For today he'd have to play Captain Archer to the Atkins family and their children, but tomorrow…tomorrow he was going home and he hoped to make a fresh start.

_TBC_


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: I just wanted to make a comment about feedback. Thanks to all of you who comment and leave such nice remarks. Feedback is a great encouragement and I appreciate it. Without it I don't think I'd be writing very much. However, I'm guessing a lot of people read and don't leave feedback. When you get two reviews for a chapter and yet know it's had well over a hundred views it makes you wonder if people are enjoying your story or not. So if you like what you read, I'd love to hear from you! A short review is great. A more detailed one is even better, but I know that takes time and we are all busy people. __On the other hand if you aren't too happy maybe you could let me know what isn't working for you via PM or email. _

_Thanks for reading!_

**Redemption**

**Chapter 22**

Jonathan and Rebecca arrived at the marina at 6:20pm, giving them ample time to park their car and walk to where the _Sunset Princess_ was moored. Jeremy and Sarah Atkins greeted them as they stepped aboard the yacht.

"I don't believe we were formally introduced yesterday," Jonathan said as he saw the older boy standing next to his mother.

"I'm David," he stated and shook Archer's hand.

"Pleased to meet you."

The boy smiled at him and thanked Archer for the rescue of his younger brother.

Jeremy and Sarah motioned for Rebecca and Jon to take a seat while they served drinks. Sarah brought out a large pitcher of passion fruit iced tea saying she'd heard it was the captain's favourite.

"Didn't realize that was public knowledge," he said in jest.

"You'd be amazed at the kind of information that's been printed about you, Captain."

"Really?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

Sarah poured him a glass and sat down. "Oh yes, I think it was only a few weeks ago there was an insert in our Sunday paper – it was your bio. Information such as your marital status, what schools you went to, grades in flight school were all available."

He frowned. "Why that would be of interest to anyone I'm sure I don't know."

"The fame is troublesome at times?" she asked.

"If I'm going to be honest I'll have to say yes. Luckily here on Fiji things have been peaceful and I've been able to go about my business without anyone bothering me. It was in San Francisco that things were a little problematic."

"I can imagine. And I'm sorry the events of yesterday have put you in the limelight again."

"It's not your fault, Mrs. Atkins."

"Please call me, Sarah."

"Sarah. By the way where is young Jonathan?" Archer asked. "He's all right isn't he?"

"Oh yes, he's fine," Jeremy said. "He'll join us in a few minutes. I think he's just changing. "

Jonathan took a sip of his drink.

"We thought about taking the yacht out to watch the sunset if that's agreeable to both of you," Jeremy said.

"Sounds like a great idea," Rebecca answered and Jonathan nodded in accord.

"If you'll excuse me then I'll get us started. I'll be back momentarily when we're out to sea and I can leave her on autopilot."

A few moments after Jeremy left, young Jonathan made an appearance. Archer noted that the boy seemed rather shy. "Nice to see you, Jonathan."

"Captain Archer, I'm happy you were able to join us." The young boy smiled at him and stood nervously by his mother's side.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay."

"None the worse for wear?"

"No, Captain. The doctors told me I'm very lucky."

"I won't dispute that and I'm grateful that you're fine. Can I ask what exactly happened out there?"

The young boy pulled up a chair, sitting down. "David and I got into an argument. I stood up too quickly, lost my balance and ended up falling in the water. The next thing I remember is seeing you, Captain."

"What were you guys doing out so far? The current could have swept you out to sea."

"Their father's explained all that to both of them," Sarah interjected. "We were both furious they'd even taken the dingy out without us supervising. Jeremy and I were having dinner on the restaurant terrace. The boys had said they were going to play on the beach. I trusted them and didn't think they had to be watched every second. "

"Mom, it was my fault," young Jonathan interjected. "I convinced David to take the boat out. He said we shouldn't."

The young boy must have been very persuasive or maybe David had wanted to go as well, but had towed the party line as he felt that was his responsibility. Still, what they'd done was dangerous.

Archer wondered what it must be like to be a parent – to be responsible for these young humans 24/7. It reminded him a little of being responsible for his crew, though they were grown adults, not children.

He recalled when he and Maggie were dating he'd thought about having a family and being a father: the idea had appealed to him. He'd always liked kids and seemed to get on well with them. He wanted to be a good father, much like Henry had been to him. But then after they'd split up he'd never dated anyone he felt strongly enough about to start a family with.

"David should have known better," Sarah continued, glancing at her older son with disapproval. "When I saw a group of people gathering on the shore and then realized it was David and Jon they were looking at, I couldn't believe my eyes. I was absolutely frantic. We immediately rushed to the beach."

"We didn't mean to cause any trouble," young Jonathan stated.

Archer didn't wish to scold the boy, besides it wasn't his place. He was a stranger and he felt certain that the boy's parents had drummed into him already the seriousness of what had occurred.

He had a vague recollection of what it was like to be young and remembered doing stuff his parents had expressly warned him about or forbidden him to do. He recalled taking his mother's car for a test drive around the block when he was twelve. Luckily Sally or anyone else for that matter had never caught him red handed.

"Thank goodness you were there, Captain Archer," Sarah said. "I will be indebted to you for the rest of my life."

Archer smiled at her. "There's no need to be. I'm glad I was able to help."

"So how long will you be staying in Fiji?" Rebecca asked Sarah after a pause. Sarah answered that they were on a two week vacation in the islands and their yacht was usually moored in Fiji. They'd flown in from Sydney, where they lived.

Jonathan and David started to ask Archer about Enterprise and what it was like to travel in space. They appeared fascinated to hear about some of the alien species he'd encountered. They also asked to have photos taken together with him and have posters autographed. Archer agreed.

"Are you sure you don't mind, Captain?" Sarah asked.

"Of course not," he reassured her. Archer followed David and Jonathan down to their cabin to sign their Enterprise memorabilia. He was rather taken aback at their collection and had no idea that little action figures of his crew had been marketed. It was bizarre to see a miniature representation of himself. He asked how long such items had been available for purchase.

"Ever since Enterprise left for the Expanse," David explained. "Your action figure was marketed first and when it became very popular the manufacturers decided to create the rest of the senior staff."

Jonathan presented him with an 8x10 color photograph which Archer recognized. He'd posed for this almost four years ago. He'd just been promoted to captain and given command of Enterprise. He signed it and then signed a poster for David.

"Anything else I can help you with?" Archer asked.

"Well I don't want to impose—"

"What is it David?" Archer was curious what the older boy was going to ask. He seemed a tad nervous in stating his request.

"When you get back to America, do you think you could ask your first officer, Sub-Commander T'Pol to send us an autographed picture?"

Archer smiled. "Absolutely! I think T'Pol would be flattered and happy to help."

"Happy?" the young Jonathan asked. "I thought Vulcans were emotionless."

Archer sat down on one of the beds. "Actually that's a preconception. They do have emotions; they just try to suppress them."

"How do they do that?"

"I believe it takes years of practice and meditation."

Archer heard Sarah call to them, saying that dinner was about to be served. "I guess we better make an appearance." The boys nodded and filed out of the room. David walked ahead while Jonathan waited behind. Archer joined him and asked why he'd stopped.

"I wanted to wait for you."

The young boy slipped his hand into the captain's. "I'll never forget you, Captain. You were my hero before this…but now you are my personal hero. Thank you for what you did."

Jonathan was touched by the young boy's gesture and wrapped his arms around him in a bear hug. "You're most welcome, but if you really want to show your gratitude you can do me a favour."

"What?"

"When you get back to Sydney, how about enrolling in some swimming classes? And promise me you'll never venture out into deep waters again without an adult."

"I promise."

"Good. Now I think we should join the others, don't you?"

The boy nodded and they walked off together to dinner hand in hand.

* * *

It was just after 10pm when they returned to Suva marina after their dinner cruise. The Atkins thanked Archer once again for all his help before saying goodbye. Jonathan hugged the captain while David held out his hand reminding Archer about T'Pol's autograph. He smiled and promised he wouldn't forget. 

Rebecca and Archer turned their heads once more and waved goodbye as they made their way back to the car.

"I'll drive," Jonathan offered. She threw him the keys and he climbed into the vehicle.

"Have a good time?" he asked.

"Yes. It was kind of Jeremy to let me interview his son. This will certainly smooth over things with Pete."

"You writing up the interview tonight?"

"As soon as we get back to the villa I'll be hard at work. This needs to go out in tomorrow's issue. It'll be like an accompaniment to the interview I did with you."

"Right."

"Young Jonathan seemed very taken with you. It was Captain Archer this and Captain Archer that."

"Maybe you could tone it down a little when you write it up?"

"I thought it was rather sweet. Take it as a compliment."

"Okay. But it's just an image he has; he doesn't know the whole truth."

"And just how much did you know about your hero when you were eight? Did your dad tell you about what a drunk Zephram Cochrane was? Or did you only know the good stuff?"

Rebecca had a point.

"Jeremy thinks you're a great writer," he stated, changing the subject.

"Oh?"

"Yeah when he was showing me around the bridge he said he read the article you wrote about me and was very impressed."

"I had good source material."

Jonathan guffawed. "Admit it, you know you're good."

"Well I guess I'm not bad, but I'm not Pulitzer material yet."

Jonathan shifted the gear into second as he pulled into the street leading to the villa. He parked outside the house, got out and then went to open the door for Rebecca.

"How gentlemanly of you," she teased.

"I'd like to leave you with some positive impressions before I go."

They strolled into the house together. Jonathan asked her if she wanted to take a walk with him on the beach, but she declined saying she needed to get writing.

"I guess I'll go alone then. By the way, do you think you could drop me off at the airport tomorrow afternoon?"

"Of course I will, Jon. You don't even need to ask."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

Jonathan returned from his walk and found Rebecca busily tapping away at the keyboard. He decided to take a shower and get ready for bed. Best to have an early night, especially with the five hour time change tomorrow. He stepped into the shower and submerged his head under the spray. Boy that felt good!

His mind had been preoccupied with T'Pol during his walk – he'd been rehearsing what he was going to say to her, but nothing had sounded exactly right. He hoped when he did get the chance to say the things he wanted in person that somehow his sentences would come together a little better.

He'd also thought about his stay in Fiji. It hadn't been a total loss. Of course if he'd taken the trip a year ago, before the Expanse, his outlook might have been a bit different. He'd probably have been a lot more enthusiastic and energetic. And he certainly wouldn't have acted miserable and moody.

What a shame he and T'Pol had never taken shore leave together! He remembered when the lots had been cast for the crew to go down to Risa how he'd secretly hoped she would end up going and that maybe they'd spend some time together not just as captain and first officer, but as friends – getting to know each other better.

Hmm…a vacation with T'Pol, it would have been perfect before the Expanse — before he'd changed.

He'd have loved to share his planet with her — take her to all the haunts he'd been to during his life and see them afresh through her eyes. Places like London, Paris, or New York. Or take her hiking through the breathtaking Canadian Rockies of Alberta. Or experience the thunderous sound of gallons of water rushing over a precipice at Niagara.

He'd imagined taking her to India, picturing her standing outside the Taj Mahal, in Agra. She was in an ankle length short sleeved white dress, open at the neck displaying her olive neck. He'd imagined taking her hand in his and whispering to her the story behind the monument, how it had been built by Emperor Shah Jahan in the memory of his dear wife and queen Mumtaz Mahal.

He'd thought about how she might enjoy the ancient Tholing monastery in Ngari, Tibet.

But that was then…

Now he acknowledged that even if he'd come here with her instead of Rebecca things would have been far from perfect. Changing locations didn't change how he felt about his own actions.

He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the rack and drying off. He suddenly remembered he hadn't told T'Pol about cutting his trip short, and she'd never returned his call. It was too late now to call her now. He could do so in the morning, but on second thought he wasn't sure if he wanted to do that. He feared if she did find out she may not want to see him. There was the chance he'd arrive home and only find Porthos waiting for him.

Better not to risk it, he decided. He'd surprise her instead.

He slipped on a bathrobe and went to join Rebecca. He found the living room vacated but noticed the patio doors to the balcony were open so he assumed Rebecca was outside on the deck. He went to join her.

She smiled as she saw him walk out. "Enjoy your walk?"

"Yeah. How's the article coming along?"

"It's finished. I typed it up and sent it to Pete, should make the morning edition. I also asked Pete to put aside a few paper copies for the Atkins and mail it to them."

"That's a nice gesture, I'm sure they'll be pleased."

"I hope so."

There were quiet for a moment, listening to the sound of the water lapping at the shore, and the breeze whistling through the trees. It was a cloudless night; the sky was littered with hundreds of stars — as far as the eye could see.

"You miss it don't you?" Rebecca asked, noticing Jonathan staring up at the sky.

"Hmm?"

"Space, exploration — do you miss it, Jon?"

"Yeah I've missed it. It'll be nice to get back to that kind of mission. But I haven't got a clue as to what Starfleet has in store for us. I was so naïve went I first went out there, I didn't even think we'd need weapons."

"How were you supposed to know what kind of welcome you'd get? The Vulcans could have forewarned you."

"Maybe they did, in their own way. They kept trying to delay our launch."

"I remember. You sure hated the Vulcans."

"I know I resented them."

"Speaking of Vulcans," Rebecca said, "does T'Pol know you're coming home?"

"No, I thought it would be best to surprise her."

"Hmm."

"What do you mean hmm?"

"Nothing."

"Just spit it out, Rebecca."

"I'm wondering if you're afraid she'll do a disappearing act on you if she finds out you're on your way."

Were women naturally intuitive or were they just good guessers? Rebecca was a journalist. Her skills were fine tuned.

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Then I guess you've got your work cut out for you, mending fences and all. Do me a favour though."

"What?" he asked.

"Start with setting her straight about us."

"Okay."

They were both quiet for a moment as they looked out onto the shore and listened to the waves crashing against the sand.

"Jonathan," she said, breaking the silence, "before you leave I want you to know that I hope you find whatever you're looking for — whether it's exploration, meeting new species, or being with T'Pol. And when you find it I hope you'll be happy. You deserve it. I'm not aware of the particulars in regards to what went on in the Expanse but I know it was something bad and it hurt you in a way I probably can't comprehend. But it's time to let yourself heal."

"Thanks." He closed the space between them and took her in his arms, giving her a hearty hug. "You've been a great friend, Rebecca. I owe you."

"Nonsense. Anyway, friends would be pretty useless if they weren't around to listen to each other moan and whine."

"Yeah, though I've been the one who's done all the moaning and you've patiently taken it."

"Well if I ever have a crisis in my life, expect me to come knocking on your door!" she teased.

"That's a deal."

* * *

Jonathan went for his last swim in the ocean while Rebecca prepared brunch. They were going to leave around 11:30am in plenty of time to get to the airport before the check-in desks opened. 

He walked up the steps of the villa and surveyed all the food she'd laid out. It was quite a feast!

"Enjoy your swim?" she enquired.

"Yeah it was great," he answered. "Rebecca, all this food is it just for the two of us?"

"Of course it is. And you better have a hearty appetite."

"You know it's a good thing I am going back to San Francisco. With all you've been feeding me I've put on more than a few pounds."

"It suits you, Jon. You were as skinny as a rake when you came out here. I bet you rarely ate a bite in the Expanse."

She was right on that account. He'd skipped meals and ignored his hunger until there came a time when he'd completely lost his appetite. His diet had consisted of copious amounts of coffee and a sandwich here and there when he had a few spare minutes.

He told her he needed to take a quick shower and change.

After consuming a bowl of fruit and yogurt, scrambled eggs and toast, a generous serving of French crepes in maple syrup and two slices of lemon cake, washed down with English breakfast tea and two glasses of orange juice, Rebecca seemed satisfied and didn't offer him any more food. He felt like he was gonna bust.

"I think I've really over done it."

"Well I didn't want to send you home on an empty stomach, and that food they serve aboard the shuttle leaves much to be desired. I can pack you a snack for the flight if you wish."

"Thanks but I don't think it will be necessary. This will keep me going all day."

"Okay," she smiled.

"So do you have any plans for the next week?" he asked.

"I'll probably take it easy and relax though I'll fit some exploring in as well. I might visit a few more National Parks and do some island hopping. It's so beautiful here; I want to make sure I don't miss out on anything."

"You won't mind being alone?"

"Jon, I thought you knew me better than not. My job keeps me alone for most of the time, traveling around the world reporting on current news."

"I know, but that doesn't mean you like it."

"I'm used to it."

"And after the vacation what are your plans? Will I see you again before Enterprise is re-commissioned?"

"You can count on it. I'm due back in San Francisco and I'll need to explain to Pete why I don't have the original exclusive with you. Hopefully he'll be happy enough with the Jonathan Atkins story."

"I hope so too."

"And what about the future? Last Friday when we went sailing you said something about moving to DC."

"It's definitely something I'm interested in. I need to explore the job opportunities. I'd like something that doesn't have me traveling the globe all year round."

"Last night you said you hoped I found whatever it was I was looking for. I want to return those wishes and say that I hope you'll be happy in whatever you do."

"Thanks, Jon." She reached across the table and patted his hand. "Boy, aren't we getting sentimental in our old age?"

Both of them laughed.

* * *

Admiral Maxwell Forrest was engrossed in reading some reports when his assistant knocked on his office door to inform him he had a surprise visitor by the name of Simon Templeton. He told his secretary to show the man in. 

"Simon, this is a surprise," he greeted the man as he walked in. "I haven't seen you in ages. To what do I owe the honor?"

"I'm afraid this isn't a social call, Maxwell."

"Is something wrong?"

The admiral gestured for Templeton to sit down and asked if he wanted a coffee or any other beverage. He declined.

"I shouldn't really be doing this Max, but… well we've been friends for a long time, and I feel as if I owe you."

Forrest sat down behind his desk, curious as to what was his friend's meaning. He'd known Simon Templeton for many years and they were good friends, though didn't see enough of each other. Templeton was the head of a local news station and since his promotion to that position rarely had time for social activities.

"So what's this all about, Simon?"

"I've just come from a meeting of network executives and three of my best reporters. Somebody got word that Captain Archer is due back to San Francisco this evening, and there's gonna be a whole bunch of reporters waiting for him at the shuttleport. I know how close you are to Archer, so I thought it my duty to let you know. The guy's been hounded by the press since he came back from his mission, but I think this is going to be even worse."

Forrest didn't understand. From what T'Pol had told him Jon had gone to Fiji for two weeks. "Are you sure there isn't some mistake?"

"Mistake? Nope, my reporters are very thorough. And the execs want to make a big deal of this and get their scoop. They're hoping the captain might co-operate and give them an interview on live TV."

"Knowing Jonathan I don't see that happening. How did anyone find out he was flying in today?"

"I believe someone in the office has an inside source with the shuttle flight operators. They let us know if anyone famous or noteworthy might be traveling through San Francisco."

"I see."

"And Captain Archer is definitely noteworthy. I don't think this is going to be kept under wraps. I also don't trust the source – I think they might have spoken to other news channels and newspapers. That arrivals lounge is gonna be packed, I don't think Archer will be able to move."

"Do you know what time he's due in?"

"I was told he should be arriving at 8pm local time."

"Then I guess I better figure something out. I appreciate your help, Simon."

"Don't mention it. Actually if anyone asks, I was never here."

Maxwell smiled at his friend. "Of course."

* * *

The flight left Suva on time and by the time he'd had a snack on board, a cup of coffee and flicked through a magazine, they were coming in for their descent into San Francisco. 

Jonathan peered out the shuttle window and smiled as he saw the Golden Gate Bridge below him. It looked more like a miniature model from the high altitude. One of the flight attendants announced the local time and he reset his watch. It was weird crossing the date line – in effect you were arriving before you left. He'd departed Fiji at 2pm on Thursday and he was arriving in San Francisco at 8pm Wednesday evening.

After the shuttle landed he gathered up his belongings. He wasn't in any rush to disembark and allowed those who were to exit first. He said goodbye to the flight attendants as he stepped outside of the shuttle and started to walk along the long corridor to the main terminal.

At the entrance to the gate he was about to make his way to the arrivals lounge and baggage reclaim when he heard someone call out to him. He turned to his left and saw a rather harried looking Admiral Forrest approaching him.

"Jonathan, you better come with me and quickly!" There was an urgent tone in his voice.

His first thought was that something had happened. Was T'Pol all right? Perhaps one of his crew had fallen ill or had been injured in some way. "What's going on, Admiral?"

"I'll explain in the car. Just follow me."

They left the area down a flight of stairs through a door which was marked as a fire exit. This exited to the outside where Forrest had left his car and they both got in.

"What about my luggage?" Jonathan asked.

"Don't worry, I've arranged for someone to pick it up at reclaim and have it delivered to your apartment."

Forrest started the car and drove in the direction of the exit with urgency. "Well, I think that worked," Maxwell commented, as he entered the freeway.

"Mind telling me what worked? What's going on?"

"If we hadn't met up you'd be negotiating your way around a whole bunch of piranha type reporters about now – all wanting their own exclusive. Several of the local TV news stations were down in Arrivals along with a whole bunch of journalists. I didn't think you'd want to deal with any of them."

"Thanks for the rescue." He owed Forrest big time. "But I don't understand – how did you know I was coming back today?"

"I didn't, not until my good friend Simon Templeton paid me a visit and said a few of his reporters were planning to stake out Arrivals waiting for you to make an appearance. It seems everyone wants a piece of you, Jon, especially now after the whole near drowning incident."

Jonathan sighed and wondered if coming home had been the best decision. Perhaps it would have been prudent to wait a few days and let the furor die down.

"Templeton – isn't he head of KTLV?"

"The very same."

"Then I'm in his debt. But how did the reporters get ahold of the information?"

"Seems the operators running the shuttles don't keep a very tight ship so to speak, and leak info out."

"Typical." Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Anyway your instincts were correct. The last thing I want to do is give anyone an interview. I didn't even want to do one with Rebecca, but felt I owed her one."

"I thought as much when I saw my copy of The Globe. What made you curtail your vacation? T'Pol said you were gone for two weeks."

"You've spoken to T'Pol?"

"Yes, she came to see in my office."

Jonathan wondered why T'Pol had gone to see Forrest, but felt it best not to pry. Maybe it had something to do with her application to join Starfleet.

"So why you back so soon?" Forrest repeated.

"I didn't see much point in staying."

"Vacation didn't help?"

"I know you suggested I go clear my head after the debriefing, but I don't think a vacation is the solution."

"Sorry to hear that, Jon. I'd hoped it would be good for you."

Forrest pulled into Archer's street and noticed a large group of people standing outside the apartment building, some with video cameras.

"Wanna hide out at my place for a while?" Forrest suggested.

"That would be great," Jonathan answered.

* * *

Jonathan had known Phillipa Forrest from the time he was a teenager. He remembered her attending his father's funeral. She'd been engaged to Maxwell at the time, and they'd married a few months later. 

"I'm so glad Max found you before all those nasty reporters started bothering you," she commented, as she handed him a mug of hot tea. "Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" she added.

He reiterated for the third time that he wasn't hungry and thanked her for her hospitality. She reminded him of a younger version of his mother – the perfect hostess.

"When Max told me what Simon had said I was concerned he wouldn't find you in time."

"Well he did."

"Thank goodness."

"Yes."

He glanced around the room and noticed a new photo on the mantelpiece since he'd visited last, which had been quite a while ago. It was a photo of their daughter in a black cap and cloak – obviously a graduation picture. It was odd how he'd never thought of it before, but somehow Forrest had managed to juggle a Starfleet career and have a family.

"That's a nice picture of Jenny," he remarked, thankful that he remembered their daughter's name.

"Yes, that was last summer. She's in Europe at the moment taking a year off before she goes back to school to do her masters."

"She doesn't want to join Starfleet I suppose?"

"Oh I know Max is disappointed, but you can't force a child to follow in your footsteps. She's very interested in acting and singing, so we'll see how that works out."

"I wish her all the best."

"Thank you, Jonathan."

Forrest joined them in the living room at this point. He'd just finished talking to Templeton on the computer. "No one's too happy at the moment and they can't understand how we gave them the slip. I just hope Simon isn't suspected."

"We'll he's head of the station, does it matter if he was?" Jonathan asked.

"He still has to answer to his boss in Los Angeles. And I know they were hoping to bolster ratings with coverage of what went on in the Expanse. After they didn't get their exclusive when you first returned, I guess they were counting on the interview today."

"Why can't these people just leave me alone? There must be far more interesting news items to report on. How many people a day nearly drown and get rescued? I'm sure there are plenty, but because I'm some kind of celebrity it has to become headline news. It's so exasperating!"

"I know it is. You've been through a lot, Jon. I can imagine it's hard." Phillipa put a hand on his shoulder and asked him again if he wanted anything to eat. He thanked her again and declined.

Noting the time he suggested to Forrest that maybe they drive back to the apartment. He didn't want to get there when T'Pol was already asleep. Thinking of T'Pol he wondered if she'd noticed the reporters or was even aware of them. If yes he hoped they hadn't bothered her in any way.

The admiral retrieved his keys and told Phillipa he'd be back in about half an hour. "Don't be such a stranger, Jon!" she called out to Archer as he was walking through the front door. "Come and visit more often." He thanked her and bid her goodnight.

"Admiral, I was wondering if I could stop by your office some time to discuss a matter of importance," Jonathan said as they left the Forrest residence.

"Is this about what you said to me when you called from Fiji?"

"Yes, it's about the Illyrians."

"Hmm…I think that's pretty much a closed case, Jon. What's done is done, and I think you should move on."

Archer felt a surge of anger in his gut at that comment but tamped it down. Forrest had gone out of his way to help him today and he didn't wish to appear ungrateful. "I'd still like an opportunity to discuss it with you, sir."

"Very well, if you insist. I'm sure I can fit you in."

"Thanks."

"By the way you do know the Starfleet Ball is coming up."

"No, I didn't," Jonathan answered truthfully. He wasn't normally around for such functions since he was traversing space.

"I'm guessing you'll be the guest of honor."

"Oh." The idea of dressing up in a tux and having to pretend to be flattered by a room full of stuffy admirals and other Starfleet personnel while they swooned over Earth's supposed hero sounded a lot worse than having a root canal job.

"Maybe you can ask Rebecca to come with you?" Forrest suggested.

"She's still in Fiji."

"When she due back?"

"She's staying another week."

"Then she should make it without a problem."

He'd attended the ball a few times while being stationed on Earth. He wasn't really one for black tie affairs, but as a kid it had seemed exciting. The first time he'd attended he'd been with his parents. He remembered how stunning his mother had looked decked out in a pale blue evening dress, and how proud his father had been to have such a beautiful woman at his side.

He'd been annoyed to see that the Vulcans from the consulate had been invited and uncertain as to why Soval had even turned up. He'd assumed the Ambassador would find human events frivolous and unnecessary.

His mother, trying to distract him from glaring at the Ambassador and Henry talking, had asked him to accompany her to the dance floor. He'd eagerly accepted. Reminiscing he realized just how patient his mother had been with him — he'd had two left feet at the time, but still the experience had been fun. Not wanting to look like a fool on the dance floor again, he'd taken a few lessons in his teenage years.

He attended the ball again as a grown man, proudly entering with the beautiful Margaret Mullin on his arm. Not many flight school cadets got an invitation to this prestigious affair; he knew it was because he was Henry Archer's son, and felt obligated to attend to represent the Archer family.

After Maggie left he didn't attend for many years, despite the invites. Then when Rebecca came onto the scene, she'd begged and pleaded with him to go. She loved dancing, dressing up and the whole brushing shoulders with important Starfleet officials — getting to hear the latest gossip. She'd actually received a personal invitation, being a member of the press, but had told Jonathan she was not going alone. After much persuasion, he'd acquiesced.

"I don't need a date if I go," he stated.

"If not Rebecca, well there's always Captain Hernandez," Forrest suggested, ignoring what Archer had just said.

"Erika? She's in town?" Jonathan and Erika had had a short lived relationship several years ago, before he met Rebecca. He'd been her commanding officer and they'd broken fraternization rules. Forrest bringing her up made him wonder if the Admiral had known about their relationship all along and just turned a blind eye.

"Yeah. She returned from Alice Springs yesterday; was asking about you in fact. You know I've given her command of Columbia."

"No, I didn't."

Jonathan was amazed, but happy for her. From what he remembered of Erika she was hard working and one of the most determined women he'd ever met.

"I thought Columbia was going to Gardner." Jonathan remembered that night he and A.G. had sat in the 602, toasting his promotion to captain and getting command of Enterprise. A.G. had been happy for him, saying he'd rather wait for command of the NX-02, that way he'd have an easier time of it, letting Archer make all the mistakes. They'd both laughed and then toasted A.G. as the captain of the NX-02. While he was happy for Erika, he felt sad that his dear friend wouldn't be at Columbia's helm — he would have loved it so much!

"I considered Gardner," Forrest explained, "but Erika's got what it takes. I think she'll do a great job."

Five minutes later and they were pulling up outside Archer's apartment. There was no sign of the reporters. "Looks like they gave up," Forrest said.

"Yeah, though I wonder if they'll be back first thing in the morning." Jonathan opened the door of the car. "Thanks for all your help today, Admiral. It's much appreciated."

"Anytime, Jon."

"I'll see you in a few days I hope then, to discuss—"

"Yeah, okay. See you then."

Jonathan climbed out of the car, taking his bags with him. He waved goodbye as Forrest drove off.

He entered his building and made his way towards the elevator. He felt a tightening in his abdomen. This was the big moment — facing T'Pol. Once outside his door he was about to slide his spare door key through the scanner when he decided it would be more courteous to knock. He pressed the buzzer and waited. After two minutes with no response he guessed T'Pol was out and opened the door himself.

The apartment looked spotlessly clean and tidy. He heard the patter of feet that quickly turned into running. A few seconds later Porthos was jumping all over him in excitement at the return of his master. Placing his hand luggage on the floor, he greeted his canine friend.

"Hey boy! Happy to see me, huh?" he asked picking the pup up. Enthusiastic barking, a madly wagging tail, and a wet cheek were Jonathan's reply.

"She been taking care of you okay?" he asked checking the dog's bowl to see it had fresh water in it. He placed his pet back on the floor and glanced around the apartment. There was no sign of T'Pol, though the bedroom door was ajar. He poked his head in and heard someone in the bathroom.

A few moments later she walked out of the bathroom dressed only in a towel, with wet hair. "Jonathan!" she exclaimed with understandable surprise.

_TBC_


	23. Chapter 23

**Redemption **

**Chapter 23**

T'Pol turned off the shower and stepped out of the cubicle. As she dried herself off she thought she heard a noise coming from the living room. It was as if someone had walked into the apartment and closed the door behind them. She dismissed it as her imagination. Perhaps Porthos had knocked something over. Wrapping the towel around her she stepped into the bedroom to change into her night clothes.

As she entered she realized she hadn't been imagining things. Standing before her was none other than Jonathan Archer. "Jonathan!" she exclaimed, startled. Then she remembered her lack of attire and feeling self-conscious held on tightly to the towel.

"T'Pol…I…err…I thought you were out," he explained, "I rang the bell but no one answered."

"I was in the shower."

"Yes…I can see that."

"I need to change."

"Of course," he said. "I'll be in the living room." He left her alone and shut the bedroom door behind him. Perplexed at his sudden arrival she fumbled around looking for her PJs. Her mind was racing. What was he doing here? Had things with Rebecca gone badly? Did this have anything to do with the boy who almost drowned?

Once she was dressed she joined him in the living room. He was seated on the sofa, fidgeting. He stood up when he saw her. "I'm sorry I barged in on you like this."

"It's your apartment," she answered curtly. That was the fact after all. However it would not have required a lot of effort to give her a few hours notice. She could have packed her things together and moved back into the hotel if he'd called. At this time of night that didn't appear to be an option – she doubted the hotel would have any vacancies.

"Yes, but I should have let you know, especially as it is rather late."

"I won't disagree." Why should she sugar coat it?

"I guess I was worried that…well—"

"Yes?"

"I wanted to see you. I thought if you knew of my arrival you might pack up and leave."

He was correct on that account. His wanting to see her was puzzling. After he'd gone to such lengths to not spend time with her why have this change of heart? She was curious, but also suspicious. This time she wasn't going to be a fool and get taken in by his bipolar behaviour. She was aware that he might declare his undying love for her tonight and then in the morning light he'd be singing the same tune of we can't be together etc.

"I will make arrangements with the hotel tomorrow and move out, but for tonight, if it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, could I stay in the living room?"

"I won't hear of it. I'll take the sofa bed and you can remain in my room."

"Jonathan—"

"No, you're my guest and I want you to be comfortable."

"The sofa bed is fine."

"T'Pol, let's not fight about trivial matters."

"As you wish." She sat down in the armchair. "You've returned a week early." It wasn't a question, but a statement that should encourage him to explain his sudden appearance.

"I know. I realized you were right."

"I was?"

"Running away was foolish. Fiji's a beautiful place, but it didn't change how I felt about myself."

"What now, Jonathan?"

"I'm not sure, I've come back to try and work that out."

"I see." She wasn't sure how else to respond. Maybe two weeks ago she would have reacted differently. But she felt as if he'd pulled her through an emotional wringer and couldn't muster up any kind of reaction to this news.

"So how have you been, T'Pol?" he enquired, sitting across from her.

"I'm well."

"I've missed you."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow at this statement. If it was meant to score points with her, it didn't.

"I know you're mad with me and you have every right to be. We didn't part on the best of terms, but I'd like to rectify matters."

"I am not mad. As I've told you several times Vulcans do not get mad." While that was true she did feel hurt by his behaviour before he'd left for Fiji.

"All right, maybe mad isn't the right term. But I want to apologize for how I acted and also to straighten out a few things."

She reminded herself not to be taken in by him. She was tired after taking Porthos for a long walk this afternoon and wasn't in the right frame of mind for this type of conversation. Besides whatever he said the facts remained to be seen – he'd told her there was no hope of relationship between them and he'd clearly chosen Rebecca.

"T'Pol?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"I told you I'm fine." She got up to make herself some chamomile tea – a ritual she performed every night. She put the kettle on to boil and asked him if he wanted anything to drink.

"No thanks," he answered. He joined her in the kitchen. "What have you been up to in my absence?"

"I looked after your quadruped, Jonathan."

"That's all?"

She wasn't in the mood for twenty questions and needed to meditate. Her emotions were close to the surface and she was concerned she might say something she would later regret. "I'm tired, Jonathan. Perhaps we could talk in the morning?"

"Oh okay. I'm sorry. I'll let you drink your tea in peace and I'll get ready for bed."

She wasn't blind to the disappointment clearly written all over his face. It was obvious he wanted to converse with her. But what did he expect? That he'd turn up and she'd welcome him with open arms?

She sipped her tea, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She noted how well Jonathan looked. His trip may not have helped him psychologically but physically he looked very fit. She was curious about Rebecca. Had she also returned with him?

She heard him walk out of the bathroom just as the clock on the living room wall chimed 11pm. She finished off her tea and washed the mug.

As he entered the living room she bid him goodnight. For a split second she felt a pang of guilt and was tempted to strike up a conversation with him. There was a warmth in his eyes that she recognized – he'd looked at her that way when he'd told her that for selfish reasons he was glad she wasn't being recalled to Vulcan.

"Goodnight, T'Pol…sweet dreams."

"I don't dream."

"Right…sorry I forgot. Well sleep well." He gave her a half smile but she quickly turned away and entered the bedroom.

* * *

Jonathan tossed and turned on the sofa bed trying to get comfortable. He was grateful he hadn't allowed T'Pol to sleep on this tonight. But if memory served him correct she had slept here once…that night he'd returned drunk from the 602 club. That had been around two weeks ago, but it felt more like two years ago.

He'd hoped for a warmer reception from her, but guessed he deserved the Vulcan iceberg treatment. She wasn't glad to see him. He feared he'd burned his bridges with her. He sighed and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He didn't feel tired at all. It was 1am here but it was only 8pm in Fiji. Oh the joys of jetlag!

He couldn't turn the television on as it would wake T'Pol. He fumbled around in the dark looking for a side lamp to turn on. Once there was illumination he padded over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

He walked over to the living room window and gazed out upon the city. There were a couple cars on the streets and a few shuttles flying past. He could just make out Starfleet HQ from here. He recalled what Forrest had said about moving on in regard to the Illyrians. Would he be so flippant if it had been him stealing that warp coil?

On the other hand, while the comment had angered him, he did understand where Forrest was coming from. He'd be of no use to his crew or Starfleet if he continued to drown himself in guilt. He needed to be fit and healthy – and that included psychologically. A captain wallowing in guilt would be too preoccupied to think on his feet and make important decisions when they were required.

The time had come to be proactive. He hated the idea of therapy, but if Starfleet wasn't going to let him go back into the Expanse and rescue the poor souls he'd stranded, it seemed it was going to be his only option. But it was a poor second choice – while therapy may teach him how to cope with his feelings it certainly wouldn't be of any aid to the people he'd stolen a warp coil from.

What other options did he have? Would the Vulcans be willing to help him? Somehow he didn't think they'd want to send a ship into the Expanse especially after what had happened to the Seleya and Vaankara. So that seemed like a definite no. He wondered what his blue skinned friend Shran was up to these days and whether he'd be willing to bestow yet another favour on him. Guess there's no harm in asking, Jon thought.

His head jerked around when he heard the bedroom door open and he watched T'Pol tip-toe out. Their eyes met.

"You can't sleep?" she asked.

"It's the time change."

"Oh."

"And you?"

"And me?" she asked, looking confused.

"I was asking why you are awake. Are you having trouble sleeping?"

"I was thirsty and came to get a glass of water." She made her way over to the sink to get the water in question. "If you wish to watch something on the television to pass the time you won't be disturbing me."

"T'Pol, you have better hearing than me. Of course it would disturb you."

"It is not a problem."

"I don't want to keep you awake."

"I haven't been sleeping that well of late."

He crossed the room to join her. "What's wrong, T'Pol?" he asked in a concerned tone. She looked as if she'd regretted this little confession and tried to make light of it explaining that she had some things on her mind.

"If you want to talk—"

"I'm fine. With extra meditation I am sure my sleep pattern will return."

"Did something happen while I was gone?" For a moment he wondered if she'd heard some bad news from Vulcan, perhaps her mother or someone in her family was ill.

"Nothing of consequence."

"You are being vague on purpose." It almost felt like a punishment.

"I believe you are being paranoid, Jonathan."

"It's not like you to have trouble sleeping; that leads me to conclude something is on your mind. There's an old saying – a problem shared is a problem halved."

"I presume that is an Earth saying."

"Yes, but—"

"Then it would not apply to me."

"I only wanted to help."

"Fascinating…I seem to recall saying something similar to you before you decided to run off to Fiji." He noted how well she had mastered the human art of sarcasm.

"T'Pol, I'm sorry. Can I make it up to you?"

"It's late. We should both try and get some sleep." It was obvious she wasn't going to answer his question. He hadn't expected her to be this pissed off, but he imagined she'd had over a week to let her anger stew at his behaviour.

"I wasn't lying when I said I missed you."

"I did not imply that you were," she responded.

"No, but you seemed indifferent to the information." She wouldn't look him in the eye, as if she was on guard against revealing her feelings. He felt like he was walking on a tight rope. "Did you miss me?" he blurted out without thinking.

She didn't answer but stood up saying she felt tired and would attempt to get some sleep. He caught her hand. "Wait, T'Pol." She pulled her hand out of his grasp and retreated to the bedroom.

* * *

T'Pol had just finished dressing when she heard the call coming through. It rang several times and when it was obvious that Jonathan wasn't going to respond she opened the bedroom door and went over to the computer and answered it.

It was Steve Johnson. He explained that his wife was back in town and if it was convenient for her, they would love her company for dinner tomorrow night.

"That's kind of you, Steve," she whispered.

"T'Pol, why are you whispering?"

"Jonathan came home last night, he's still asleep."

"Ah, well make sure he gets the invite as well. I'd love to see him! Of course now that he's back we won't be able to gossip about him, will we?" Steve teased.

"I will pass on your invitation to Jonathan."

"Great! And T'Pol if for some reason he can't make it, we'd still love your company."

"Thank you. I will definitely be there."

"Good, let's say around 7:30pm?"

"That is agreeable."

Steve ended the call by saying he looked forward to seeing them both. After switching off the computer terminal she tip-toed over to Archer and noted he was fast asleep. She presumed it had to do with the time change.

She fed Porthos, had a bowl of fruit and then took the dog for a walk. By the time she returned it was after 11am. She'd stayed out longer than usual hoping to give him some time to get up, dressed and have breakfast without her getting in his way.

As she re-entered the apartment she noted that it was silent except for the sound of Jonathan's deep breathing. He was still asleep! She unhooked Porthos' leash and removed her jacket.

She noted he was lying in the same position he'd been in before she'd left; on his stomach with his head to the side. The sheet had gathered around his waist with his bare muscular back on full display. She imagined running her fingers down his spine in a gentle caress or placing a soft kiss at his shoulder.

She chastised herself for her silly daydreams. It would be prudent to wake him up. He couldn't sleep the entire day away. She leaned over and shook him gently by the shoulder. That didn't produce any results so she tried once more, this time using a little more strength.

He moved onto his back but continued to sleep. She shook him again and called out his name with no result. He must be in a very deep sleep. She could just pack up her things and go, but if she allowed him to sleep she theorized he probably wouldn't awaken till around 1pm or later.

She walked over to the kitchen and retrieved a glass out of the cupboard half filling it with water and returned to his side. She emptied the contents over his head.

"What the hell?" he said, coughing and spluttering as he bolted upright.

For some illogical reason she felt a surge of satisfaction at her action. "Jonathan, it's 11:15am, I assumed you'd wish to be up by now."

His eyes focused on her. "You threw water over me?"

"It was a last resort."

He didn't look convinced. "You were fast asleep. I shook you several times to no avail," she explained.

He pulled back the covers and got up. She stepped out of his way. "Do you mind if I use my room? I need to get to my clothes as my luggage hasn't arrived yet."

"Did it get lost?"

"No, Admiral Forrest said he would arrange for someone to drop it off here. I couldn't pick it up myself as I was avoiding the hoard of reporters waiting for me at the arrivals lounge."

Now she recalled seeing a group of people standing outside the apartment building entrance yesterday evening when she'd returned from doing some grocery shopping. It was fortunate that no one had stopped her or recognized her. "I suspect your notoriety has tripled since the incident with the drowning boy."

"That's an understatement."

"I would assume they'd be less people to hassle you in Fiji. Why did you not remain there while all the excitement died down?"

"I didn't know what the situation here was until Admiral Forrest grabbed and hurried me away before anyone noticed us. Anyway, if you'll excuse me I'll get dressed."

He appeared ten minutes later clean shaven and dressed in a white collarless shirt open at the neck and a pair of tan pants. Did he wear white because he knew how well it suited him? She felt a compliment on the tip of her tongue, but bit it back.

Then she remembered Steve's call and informed Jonathan of the invitation. "He is eager to see you," she added.

"Hmm…it's been so long."

"Perhaps you could rekindle your friendship. He seems like a nice person." Or perhaps you could see him as a patient she thought.

"You make it sound like you've known him for years, T'Pol. Did you guys spend a lot of time together?"

"We've been out a few times." She didn't owe him a detailed explanation.

"As in a date?"

Jonathan was certainly jumping to conclusions and while her first instinct was to put him right, she decided against it. Let him wonder about her and Steve. She could easily tell him Steve was married, but since he'd failed to inform her of the current status between himself and Rebecca, she saw no reason to make clarifications herself.

"T'Pol?" he asked again.

"If you are finished with the bedroom, I need to pack."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his face a frown.

"I believe pack is the correct term. As in gather my clothes and other belongings and place them into a suitcase."

She strolled into the bedroom while he followed behind her. "I didn't say you had to leave."

"The reason for my staying no longer exists, Jonathan. You are home; you can care for your pet. It is logical for me to move back to the hotel."

"But you don't have cooking facilities there. And I'd like you to stay…here with me. Please."

She pulled up a suitcase onto the bed and started to fold her clothes into it, ignoring his invitation.

"Is it because you don't want to stay?" he asked after a long pause. She looked up at him and noticed how sad he looked. None of this made any sense. Why was he acting this way?

"Jonathan, I already explained there is no reason for me to stay."

"I'm not asking you to look after Porthos; I'd like you to be my guest. Surely you're more comfortable here than in some hotel."

"I can't expect you to sleep on that uncomfortable sofa."

"If that's your only concern, I'll go out and buy a new mattress for it today."

"No, that isn't my only concern," she said truthfully. "As things stand I do not believe it is appropriate for us to share living quarters."

"Why?"

"You have issues you need to deal with. Last time I tried to help it seems I was more of a stumbling block."

"No, that was just me being a stubborn ass."

She raised her eyebrow at the name he'd called himself. She felt herself wavering. But her logical side told her it was safer to stay at the hotel.

"I find this discussion pointless, Jonathan. I have made up my mind and I'll be checking into the hotel this afternoon." Her voice was resolute.

"I see," he said, sounding defeated. "You can't bear to be in the same room with me, can you?"

"Please don't over dramatize." His views were totally inaccurate. It appeared humans, especially human men, had short memory spans and were prone to bouts of forgetfulness. She'd reiterated how much she cared for him before he'd left for Fiji. He acted as if he'd never heard those words.

"I'll let you pack then." He left the room and she heard him switch on the television.

* * *

As bad as he felt about her leaving he felt it was the gentlemanly thing to offer to drive her to hotel, which he did after lunch. As they made their way out of the elevator towards the front door he suddenly remembered that reporters were looking for him. There was a chance a dozen or so might be camped outside the front entrance.

"Is there a problem?" T'Pol asked. She must have noticed he was lagging behind.

"Can you check the front door and see if there are any reporters hanging around?"

She complied with the request and returned to inform him the coast was clear. He was surprised they'd given up so easily. Perhaps they were camped out at Starfleet thinking he might be there. Or it could be that he was yesterday's news and something far more interesting and exciting occupied them.

Neither one of them spoke on the drive over to the hotel. The atmosphere was thick with tension. Jonathan put on some music – the silence made him uneasy. As they pulled up outside the building he climbed out of the car and retrieved her bags from the trunk.

"I can take those in myself," she told him.

"I can help."

"It's not necessary."

So now she wouldn't even let him carry her bags! He needed to talk to her, to explain. He had so many things to tell her but this wasn't the place with all the loud traffic passing by. He felt like she was slipping through his fingers and he was powerless to do anything about it. "I need to talk to you."

"What about, Jonathan?"

"Many things, but I'm not going to shout over this traffic."

"I don't believe there is anything left to say."

"Yes there is. At least on my part – I just need you to listen. Can we have dinner tonight?"

"I'm having dinner at the Consulate tonight with Soval and his wife."

"Okay, what about tomorrow?"

"We're both invited to have dinner with Steve Johnson."

That was true, he'd momentarily forgotten about that. Still that wasn't until 7:30pm. The rest of the day was free. "Okay, what about lunch tomorrow? We could go to the tea room that you liked so much in Golden Gate Park."

"I'll be busy for most of the day tomorrow."

It wasn't like T'Pol to lie but he sure felt like he was being fed half-truths. Defeated he gave up, said goodbye and returned to the car. She picked up her case and without looking back at him walked into the hotel.

He wished now with all his heart that she'd never confessed her feelings, that he could have been blissfully unaware of them. It was clear that she no longer possessed them; he'd killed them by running off with Rebecca and telling her there could be nothing between them. At the time it had seemed the sensible thing to do, but now he regretted it with all his heart.

What a fool he'd been to think he could just turn up and everything would be all right between them.

He drove around aimlessly for a few hours feeling sorry for himself. Before he knew it he'd driven as far as Santa Rosa. He pulled the car over and took the map out of the glove compartment. If he drove towards the coast he'd reach Bodega Bay. That was where the famous Hitchcock film _The Birds_ was set. He recalled watching that with his dad when he was about 10 years old. He'd pleaded with his father to let him stay up late and having agreed Henry and he had sat on the sofa together eating popcorn, their eyes glued to the screen.

He turned left onto Highway 12 which would lead him to the coast. When he arrived he walked around the town a little but was disappointed to find that it didn't resemble any of the scenes in the film. It had probably been filmed on a Hollywood back lot.

He drove back to San Francisco down the coast road and stopped along the way at some fast food joint to appease his hunger. It was after 9pm when he arrived back at his apartment. He found a note in the door from an Ensign Calloway saying he'd tried to deliver Archer's luggage but the captain hadn't been home. The note asked him to contact the ensign to arrange for it to be delivered or picked up.

He entered his empty apartment — well apart from Porthos it was pretty empty. This was not how he'd imagined it. When he'd decided to leave Fiji he knew he had his work cut out for him but he'd felt certain T'Pol would be there for him. He'd obviously miscalculated.

And just what was going on between her and Johnson? He found it hard to believe that she'd get involved with his old friend. Though he remembered back in his youth how Steve had been very popular with the ladies – he seemed to possess a certain charm. Had he exercised it on T'Pol?

He wasn't gonna think about that now. He poured himself a drink and wandered around the apartment aimlessly. He felt lonely. He'd become accustomed to someone being around. He missed Rebecca – she'd been so kind to him. She'd had the patience of a saint and put up with all his crap.

I guess I deserve this, he thought. You push people away, what do you expect? He looked out of his living room window and saw the lights from the 602 club twinkling at him. That was an idea! He slipped a jacket on and left.

* * *

It was a busy night and the place was crowded. He hoped he'd still be welcome here after the incident he'd created two weeks ago. He had no intention of getting drunk tonight; he just wanted to be around people. It wasn't even conversation he sought – just the company of fellow human beings.

He ordered a beer from Ruby, who said it was nice to see him. "I thought I might not be welcome."

"You're always welcome, Captain, as long as you don't create any scenes."

"Right."

"By the way rescuing that drowning boy was quite something."

"Anyone else would have done the same thing."

She smiled as she handed him his beer, then served another customer.

"Well if it isn't the galaxy's hero," he heard a female voice announce behind him. He turned to find Erika Hernandez standing behind him. He smiled at her. "I hear congratulations are in order, Captain."

"Thank you, Jonathan. Why don't you join me and my chief engineer for a drink?"

She introduced him to Commander Christina Dobson. He shook hands with the young woman, who didn't look a day over 25 and wondered how she'd achieved the rank of commander so quickly and landed the job of chief engineer.

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Captain. I've heard a lot about you."

"Erika been running off at the mouth?" he asked, sitting down.

"Captain Hernandez speaks very highly of you."

"That's kind of her."

"Is Trip in town?" Christina asked.

"He's on vacation at the moment. I think he'll be back in a week or two. You know Trip?"

"Yeah, we worked together under Captain Jeffries a few years ago. I was hoping he might give me a few pointers on the engine that aren't in the manual."

"I'm sure he'd be happy to help when he gets back."

They chatted casually for the next ten minutes or so and then Christina said she had to leave and get an early night. They were taking Columbia out for a test run in the morning and she wanted to be at her best.

"So how are you?" Erika asked once they were alone.

"Okay."

"You've had a lot of press. I guess you're hating the limelight."

"Well I'm not exactly loving it." He finished off his beer and ordered another one from a waitress who was passing by. "So you're a captain."

"Indeed I am. Took me long enough."

"It's not as easy as it looks," he joked.

"Perhaps you could give me a few pointers."

"Be prepared for the unexpected."

"Sounds ominous. But I appreciate the advice." Erika sipped at her glass of wine. Speaking of advice, I can't quite decide who I should have as a first officer. I was planning to get in touch with you and ask for your recommendations but since you are here—"

"Who do you have in mind?"

"At the moment it's a tie between Commander Eric Monroe and Commander Katherine Sullivan. There is a third choice but I don't know the likelihood of her accepting."

"I worked with Monroe during the NX Project – he's a conscientious young man, very thorough. Katherine Sullivan – I don't seem to recall. You sure I know her?"

"According to her records it says she worked on Enterprise in security for two years."

"No, I don't seem to recall."

"Ah I know the problem. She got married soon after the Xindi attack, and left Enterprise to stay on Earth. I believe her maiden name was Channing."

"Lieutenant Channing, yes I remember her. She's a good choice. She often helped out on the bridge and did the first officer's night shift."

"So which one would you choose?"

"I don't know, Erika. Let me review their files and get back to you. Is that okay?"

"Sure, I didn't mean to pressurize you."

"You didn't."

"There were a lot of weddings after the Xindi attack," Erika commented.

"So I heard. I don't see a ring on your finger."

"You know the answer to that one, Jon. I'm married to Starfleet."

"Of course," he smiled.

"And you?"

"Me? Married? You must be kidding!"

"Thought I'd ask, though I guess there's more chance of the Klingons becoming pacifists than you tying the knot."

The analogy was humorous but suddenly it bothered him. At one time he'd have laughed and heartily agreed, but for some reason her comment hurt him. It wasn't that way at all – not anymore at least. He was tired of being alone and playing the bachelor captain. And he didn't feel married to Starfleet like she did. He needed more in his life. He wanted more…

The waitress returned with Jonathan's second beer and he paid her.

"So you didn't ask who my third option was."

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"For first officer, remember?"

"Oh right – who's your third option?"

"I heard from Admiral Forrest that your first officer, T'Pol, is joining Starfleet. If that's true that makes her eligible to serve aboard any ship of her choosing. I've looked over her records and she's an exemplary officer. I know I'd like her aboard Columbia."

"T'Pol's _my_ first officer," Jonathan said with a possessive tone in his voice.

"She might want a change, Jon. And she's fair game. There's no reason why I can't ask her."

"She's not a commodity, Erika."

"I never said she was. She's an outstanding officer. I meant to compliment her. And you don't own her." Erika sounded a little put out.

"Fine, do what you want."

"Did I touch a nerve, Jon? You accuse me of treating her like a commodity but you act as if you own her."

Jonathan feared that if Erika did ask T'Pol, in light of current circumstances his Vulcan first officer would quite eagerly agree to the transfer. And then she'd be lost to him forever, he couldn't even enjoy her company on the Bridge or in his Ready Room. He couldn't let that happen.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm tired. T'Pol's a great asset to my crew. I'd hate to lose her. I'd just prefer it if you didn't ask."

"You've made that obvious, but it's her decision." Erika was not be dissuaded it seemed. "Anyway let's drop this okay? I wouldn't have mentioned it if I knew how upset you'd get."

"How would you feel if I tried to poach one of your Bridge crew?" he asked.

"Jonathan, I said I'm sorry."

He finished his beer. "So you got any plans for tomorrow?" Erika enquired.

"At the moment, no — why?"

"I thought you might like to accompany us on a test drive of Columbia."

That sounded appealing. And it wasn't as if he had plans tomorrow. T'Pol had given him the cold shoulder. "Where you heading out to?"

"Jupiter and back —we leave at 1000 hours."

"I'll be there."

* * *

The trip aboard Columbia was routine and not as interesting as he'd hoped. Columbia was a carbon copy of her twin ship and apart from a few upgrades, which Enterprise was also receiving; there wasn't much to look at.

He didn't wish to appear bored so listened intently to everything Erika explained, as if all of this was new to him. She was like a younger version of him, before the Expanse had changed him. Her enthusiasm for whatever mission she was sent on bubbled over.

They had lunch in the Captain's Mess and she asked him if he'd thought any more about her candidates for first officer.

"Pick Monroe," he answered.

"Any particular reason?"

"Yeah…he's single and he'll be more focused. Sullivan will be miserable pining for her husband. She shouldn't have applied for a shipboard position."

"Married people do serve aboard starships, Jon."

"Not a good idea in my opinion unless the spouse is along for the ride."

"Families aboard starships, huh? Maybe one day, but I don't see it happening just yet."

He shrugged and finished his salad.

He was back on terra firma by 2pm. Erika bid him goodbye, saying she was staying onboard to check on the data Commander Dobson had collected and she had one of her ensigns shuttle him back to Earth.

He returned to his apartment and found a message from T'Pol requesting that he meet her at the hotel at 7pm. That was probably best since he didn't have a clue where Steve Johnson lived.

He didn't feel up to this dinner. He imagined it would be something like a college reunion with Steve wanting to reminisce over old times. That would inevitably mean the subject of Maggie would be brought up. That was something he didn't wish to discuss and definitely not in front of T'Pol. He'd kept that part of his life private on purpose. No one knew about Maggie and her marriage refusal except Steve and Rebecca. She'd weeded it out of him once when they'd been having a discussion on marriage and she'd been shocked to learn that he'd proposed once.

Porthos appeared restless so he decided to take him for another walk. They'd gone out this morning but only briefly as he'd turned up at Starfleet to meet Erika at 9am. They returned about an hour later. Jonathan felt tired so decided to go lie down. He hadn't slept much last night, not falling into slumber until around 5am and then he'd been abruptly awoken by a glass of water in his face. He couldn't quite get over that. It was almost as if T'Pol had enjoyed it. Yet she wasn't a vindictive person. It made no sense.

He laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. He realized the bedding hadn't been changed and the pillowcase smelled strongly of T'Pol's shampoo. It was a wonderful smell of jojoba oil. He closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to hold her in his arms inhaling her hair.

He must have drifted off because when he opened his eyes again he noted it was already after 6pm. He didn't have much time before he was due to meet T'Pol. He showered and changed and made his way to the car.

He arrived outside her hotel at 6:50pm. After parking the car he entered the hotel and asked the receptionist what room T'Pol was staying in. The lady at the front desk explained she couldn't give such information out but would inform T'Pol she had a visitor.

"It's Captain Archer, isn't it?" she smiled.

"Yeah."

A few moments later T'Pol appeared dressed in a light green short sleeved dress with a jacket on her arm.

"You look lovely," he complimented her. Had she made the special effort for Steve? That thought was unsettling. "I parked the car round the back."

"We can walk, it's only a few blocks from here and we have time."

"Okay."

They walked in silence and it made Jonathan nervous. He made an attempt at small talk and asked her how her dinner with Soval had gone.

"It was fine."

"How is the Ambassador?"

"He is well."

"What you been up to today?"

"I ran some errands, meditated, went for a walk."

She didn't volunteer any further information and they continued on in silence. Feeling uncomfortable again he related to her the events of his morning aboard Columbia. T'Pol seemed unaffected by anything he said. It was like she'd had a complete personality transplant while he'd been in Fiji and he'd come back to a different person.

They turned a corner and she announced that this was the street. Jonathan looked around and felt an odd sense of deja-vu. He hadn't been in this area of the city for years but it felt familiar. He glanced around looking for a street name, but couldn't see one.

"What's the name of this street?" he asked T'Pol.

"Westgate Avenue."

No wonder it looked so damn familiar! He'd spent many happy hours walking down this street to a certain door and a certain apartment. He wondered why Steve would choose to live here.

"I believe this is it," announced T'Pol as they stopped outside number 2150. Jonathan felt his stomach tighten. He had a bad feeling about this. It wasn't possible that this was a coincidence.

"Are you sure this is the right address?"

"Yes," she answered and opened the gate. "Aren't you coming?" she called when she noticed he wasn't following. The house looked just as he remembered it.

"Jonathan!" she called again. Maybe this was some kind of joke on Steve's part and he'd rented the house for the dinner. It wasn't possible that…no she'd left San Francisco almost immediately after refusing him.

He followed T'Pol to the front door. She rang the bell. Jonathan felt increasingly nervous. The door opened revealing a tall, beautiful brown haired lady in her early 40s.

"You must be T'Pol; it's so nice to meet you. I'm Steve's wife." The woman turned to greet him. "Hello Jonathan. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

Jonathan stood rooted to the spot, incapable of speech.

_TBC_


	24. Chapter 24

**Redemption **

**Chapter 24**

T'Pol stepped inside the house. Jonathan remained glued to the spot, searching for the right words but his larynx refused to issue sound. The moment was surreal. After all these years – here she was standing before him in the flesh – the first woman he'd ever loved. The only woman he'd ever asked to marry him. And she'd married Steve Johnson!

"Are you coming in?" Maggie asked him.

T'Pol had turned around, obviously wondering what was wrong with him and asked if he was feeling well. He wasn't sure how to answer that question. He didn't know if he could get through this evening sitting across the table from the woman who he still felt anger towards. The woman who'd refused him with the mere explanation of not wanting to be a Starfleet widow. The woman who'd dated him for more than a year and acted surprised when he'd proposed marriage. The woman who'd married his friend.

Feelings buried for over eighteen years were resurrected. Memories of that fateful evening right here on this very doorstep flooded back.

"Why don't you go in T'Pol, we'll join you in a moment," Maggie said, moving over to where Jonathan was standing. T'Pol gave them a quizzical look, not quite understanding the significance of this reunion, and walked inside.

"I know it's a shock—"

"That's an understatement." He was relieved to find his voice box was still in working order.

"Will you join us for dinner? We've got a lot to catch up on."

"I don't know if I want to catch up, Margaret."

"What happened to Maggie?"

He looked away focusing on a car that was driving past. He felt her touch his arm. "Hey, fly-boy, we can still be friends can't we?"

"Don't call me that!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Forget it. I don't want to hear it."

"Listen, I can't stay out here on the front porch and argue with you. I need to go check on dinner or we'll be eating the burnt remnants of roast chicken. So are you coming in or not?"

It would be childish and immature not to go in. What was one dinner, right? He could cope with it. So what if a close friend had married his first love? He could deal with it. This was a picnic compared to some of the situations he'd been in the last year. He'd sit across the table from the pair of them and make small talk, acting as if nothing in the world were wrong.

He entered the house without a word. Maggie showed him into the living room where T'Pol was already seated. Maggie informed them that Steve would be arriving in about half an hour. She asked if they wanted anything to drink. Jonathan asked for a Scotch.

T'Pol requested a mineral water. Maggie left them alone while she went to get their drinks.

"What's wrong with you?" T'Pol asked. "You are acting strange."

Jonathan gave a sarcastic laugh. "You wouldn't understand cause you don't know who she is."

"She's Steve's wife."

"That she is."

"I assume she's someone from your past."

"You're getting warm."

"Be cryptic. If you don't wish to tell me, I'm not going to badger you with questions." T'Pol picked up a magazine lying on the coffee table and leafed through a few pages.

"What did Steve tell you about his wife?"

"Nothing more than that he had one. I did not enquire of her."

Maggie returned with the drinks. "Thank you," T'Pol said to her. "I'm curious, Mrs. Johnson – you said to Jonathan at the front door that it has been a long time. May I ask how you know each other?"

"Jon hasn't told you?"

"He would rather play games."

"Oh I see. Well I'm Dr. Margaret Johnson, but my friends call me Maggie."

"You're Margaret Mullin?" T'Pol asked, looking surprised.

"Yes."

How did T'Pol know about Maggie? Then he realized what all the outings with Steve must have been about. What right did he have to be informing T'Pol of his past? Another thought crossed his mind – had there been something going on between Steve and Maggie behind his back all those years ago? Was that the real reason for her refusal? Oh god, he felt sick to his stomach. Now he didn't know if he could get through dinner.

"You kept the apartment," Jonathan stated, making an effort at small talk. Perhaps it would slow down his racing mind.

"Yes, it's been empty for some time. We were thinking of buying a property along Steiner Street, but I convinced Steve that my old apartment would suffice for the time being. And I'm rather attached to it."

He glanced around the room. It looked freshly decorated and the furniture was new. Back when she'd been a medical student Maggie had been on a budget and the place was furnished with mismatched items that were hand me downs from family and friends.

"I've kept abreast of your career, Jon. It's certainly been interesting."

"That's one way you could describe it." He sipped at his Scotch.

"May I ask what your medical specialty is?" T'Pol addressed Maggie.

"I decided to go into pediatrics after I graduated from Medical School."

That figures. She'd always liked kids. It was why he'd contemplated having a family. It seemed crazy now, but in his unbounded enthusiasm he'd even thought about names. Things had seemed so definite…so certain…

"Do you and Steve have kids?" Jonathan asked. Since she loved children it seemed natural that she'd want some of her own.

"We've been so busy with our respective careers, there just hasn't been time. But it's not too late to start."

That was true. Nowadays it wasn't uncommon for a 50 year old woman to get pregnant and give birth. Maggie still had time.

He excused himself for a moment saying he needed to use the bathroom. It was merely an excuse to help him get centered. He splashed some cold water on his face and studied his reflection in the mirror. He could do this. It still felt surreal and he almost wished it was a product of his imagination – one of those weird dreams he was having and any moment he'd wake up in his apartment. But this felt too real to be a dream.

After all these years he'd put the memory of Margaret Mullin far behind him. The suppressed memories, the hurt, the anger, the disappointment – he didn't want to revisit any of that and yet her mere presence caused all of it to bubble to the surface. He took a deep breath – he wasn't 24 any more, he was a grown mature man. So what if an old flame had crossed his path? He could handle it…he hoped.

When he returned to the living room he found both of them engaged quite happily in conversation. Whilst he'd only received the iceberg treatment from the Vulcan, she appeared most amiable to Maggie.

"He really threatened to knock you on your ass?" Maggie laughed.

"Indeed."

"That must have been quite a first meeting."

"Yes."

"Did you tell the whole story, T'Pol?" he interjected, annoyed that this was the topic of discussion. "She and her Vulcan cohorts were trying to delay my mission – again."

"Sounds like you're still sore about this incident," Maggie stated.

"No, I just want to make sure it's told correctly."

T'Pol gave him an icy glare.

The conversation continued, mostly between T'Pol and Maggie. Luckily the subject reverted back to Maggie's medical career as she related what her work had been like over the years. He listened in, commenting now and then when he deemed it necessary. Before long he heard the front door open and they were joined by Steve.

"It's been a long time, Jon!" Steve said as he shook his hand.

"That's what your wife said to me."

"So how was Fiji?"

"Great."

"And your girlfriend – did she come back with you?"

Jonathan glanced at T'Pol. What had she told Steve? He felt his gut tighten at the thought of the two of them discussing him behind his back. It was something he couldn't abide.

"Rebecca stayed another week," Jonathan answered, not correcting Steve on the girlfriend part. If that's what T'Pol had told him – fine! Let Steve believe it.

"Perhaps you can bring her to the Starfleet Ball. I'd love to meet her."

"Why? Isn't one of my girlfriends enough for you?" Oh God, did he have to say the first thing that went through his mind!

"Finding out Maggie and I were married must have been a surprise."

"Yeah," he muttered in response.

"If I can interrupt for a moment, I'm about to serve dinner. Why don't you all sit down around the dining table," Maggie suggested.

They shuffled into the other room and sat down at the table. Steve opened a bottle of white wine and filled their glasses. "Do you drink alcohol?" he asked T'Pol.

"On occasion. I'll have one glass."

"So what's the Starfleet Ball like?" Steve asked. "I got the invitation this morning."

"You didn't ask Maggie? She went once…a long time ago…with _me._"

"Right, I remember now. You tried to get me an invite." Steve had a good memory. Jonathan didn't remember that.

Maggie entered with the first course. "Oh it's an elaborate affair, Steve. Everyone has to dress up. I had a great time. The men all wear tuxes, the women are in evening gowns. There's a three course meal and later on there's dancing for those who wish to take part."

"Sounds like fun. Are you going, T'Pol?" Steve asked.

"I have not made a decision yet. It is a curious event," she noted. "Is there a particular reason for it being held?"

"You've been to a Starfleet Ball?" Jonathan asked her.

"Yes, I accompanied Ambassador Soval the first year I came to Earth."

He wondered if he'd attended the one T'Pol had been to. He didn't remember seeing her, but then the last time he'd gone Rebecca and him were still dating. That was probably before T'Pol had come to Earth.

"It's just an annual event, T'Pol. There's no particular reason for it," he explained.

"I hear you'll be the guest of honor," Steve said to Jonathan.

"Apparently."

"How is it you were invited?" Jonathan asked him.

"I work for Starfleet medical now. That's why we moved to San Francisco."

"Are we in need of more shrinks?" His tone was slightly sarcastic.

"There can never be enough therapists if you ask me. You'd be surprised how many officers seek out my help and that of my colleagues. There's even a waiting list."

"Oh."

"I think it would be a good idea if all Starfleet cadets had a few sessions with a counselor or therapist – people go around for years needing to get stuff off their chests and instead repressing it all. I think we'd all be a lot healthier if we were more open to what goes on in our psyche."

Steve sounded like an advertisement for psychotherapy. It made Jonathan nervous. Was he studying him – the way he sat, the words he said, his facial expressions? Wasn't that part of the training? Hmm…he didn't like the feeling of being under a microscope.

"You practice what you preach?" Jon asked.

"Oh sure. Going through therapy yourself is part of the training." Steve took a sip of wine. "I was thinking – take you for example, Jon."

He did not like where this was going.

"If you'd had a few sessions as a cadet it might have helped you deal with your anger or at least taught you how to channel it."

"I didn't have any problem with anger," Jonathan answered, feeling defensive.

"Come on, Jon. Your anger towards the Vulcans is world famous. You can't deny that."

"Whatever my feelings were, they were well founded and didn't need channeling. If your father had died—"

"It's okay, Jon, I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset." Jonathan sliced the tender chicken breast on his plate and speared a piece with his fork. He felt angry, as if Steve was playing some kind of psychological game with him. He didn't enjoy being the guinea pig.

"I guess I get carried away at times. I'm very enthusiastic about my work, and I love helping people."

"It must be rewarding work," T'Pol interjected.

"It is, though it's not easy. It can be very painful at times. I don't think I could have stayed in Florida much longer trying to comfort those who'd lost loved ones in the Xindi attack. If you're not careful, you can get burned out. So when I heard about an opening at Starfleet Medical I jumped at it."

Ah, so Steve was human after all. It made Jonathan feel better – as if they were back on equal ground.

The meal was very good – Maggie was a proficient cook, not as good as Rebecca maybe, but she knew her way around a kitchen. He recalled how she'd surprised him with carrot cake for his birthday all those years ago, knowing it was his favourite.

Maggie asked Jonathan how long he'd be remaining on Earth. He explained that he and his crew were earth bound until Enterprise was space worthy again.

"I guess you took quite a beating from the Xindi."

"Yeah."

"I don't mean to pry, I know it's classified. I'm relieved that you made it back in one piece."

Physically at least, he thought.

"Guess I proved you wrong, Maggie."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm still alive."

"Yes…but what—"

"That was your reason, do you recall? You were worried I'd make you a widow." He hadn't planned on the conversation taking this direction but the opportunity was too good to pass up. Her explanation for refusing him had never satisfied him – it had felt more like a hollow excuse.

Maggie was no fool and recognized his comment as a direct dig at her. That much Jon could see written in her eyes. "Yes, it seems I was mistaken."

"I think Jon has nine lives like a cat. Right, T'Pol?" Steve interjected, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Something like that."

"I hope the salad's okay," Maggie spoke to T'Pol. "Steve mentioned you were vegetarian. I'm sure you miss Enterprise's Chef."

T'Pol reassured her host that the meal was fine. She went onto explain that she'd been doing a lot of her own cooking while staying at Jonathan's looking after Porthos.

"Porthos? Is he a cat or a dog?" Maggie enquired as T'Pol hadn't been specific.

"He's a beagle," Jonathan answered.

"I bet he's adorable."

"He's very cute, Maggie. I thought I'd mentioned him to you. That's how T'Pol and I met, she was out walking Porthos when I was out with Bailey," Steve informed his wife.

"That's right! Sorry, completely slipped my mind."

"Bailey?" Archer asked.

"Steve's black Labrador. That animal is spoiled to death," Maggie said.

"Where is he?"

"He gets rather excitable around guests so we put him in the bedroom for the time being."

"I'd like to see him." Bailey was the first living creature in this house he was remotely interested in meeting.

Steve replied that the dog could join them after dinner. He asked Jonathan why he didn't take Porthos with him to Fiji; surely the dog would have enjoyed himself there. "I can't imagine not taking Bailey with me."

Jonathan was a bit stuck and grateful that a mouthful of food prevented him from answering immediately. The only reason he'd left Porthos behind was as an excuse for T'Pol to use his apartment. Otherwise there'd have been no question of taking the pup with him.

"There was a policy at the villa Rebecca rented – no pets."

"Oh. Well at least T'Pol took good care of him."

"Yeah."

He helped Maggie clear away the dishes after dessert and followed her into the kitchen with them. She thanked him as he passed them to her and loaded them into the dishwasher.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Jon."

"What exactly are you sorry about?"

"It shouldn't have been a surprise. Steve should have told T'Pol and you."

"T'Pol didn't know?"

"No."

"But she knows about you – I mean about us and our past."

"I suppose. It bothers you?"

"Your husband had no right to divulge such private information about me."

"T'Pol is your friend, isn't she?"

"That's not the point."

"Honestly, Jon, what's the big deal? Our relationship isn't classified."

"I haven't talked to anyone about you!" He said through gritted teeth.

"No one?"

"Okay, one person," he said, remembering Rebecca. "But as a rule I keep my past to myself."

"Then I apologize for Steve being indiscreet, if you see it that way." She paused to draw breath. "Listen, about tonight – Steve thought it would be a fun to keep my identity secret. I didn't think it was a good idea, but I assumed after all this time you'd be over what happened so long ago."

"I am over it."

"You sound angry."

"Seeing you has brought back a lot of memories."

"I know, Jon. For me too," she said touching his arm.

He flinched away. "I didn't say they were happy."

She sighed, closing the dishwasher and setting the program. "We had a lot of fun together; can't we just remember the good times?"

"Fun! Huh, I was a first class idiot! There was I thinking I'd met the woman to spend the rest of my life with and you were having fun."

"Don't twist my words, Jonathan."

"But that's all it was, right? Just a bit of fun. And the minute Steve steps in you marry him!" He wasn't jealous – his romantic feelings for Maggie had died many years ago. He was angry and bitter — angry for having wasted so much time on a woman that obviously hadn't taken him seriously.

"You don't know what you're talking about. And I wouldn't talk so loud if I were you. The walls in this kitchen are thin."

That shut him up. He didn't want Steve or T'Pol to hear any of this. But he remained angry.

"Jonathan, it's been a long time since we've seen each other. I can appreciate that this has been a shock for you and I guess you have a right to be angry about how things turned out."

"You guess?"

"Maybe we should meet some time next week for lunch or something and clear the air? Disappearing like I did – well it wasn't the most mature thing to do. I owe you an explanation."

He didn't know what good it would do. Rehashing the past might not be very healthy. On the other hand maybe he could lay this ghost to rest once and for all. So he agreed.

* * *

Jonathan and T'Pol walked together back to her hotel. It was a foggy evening with a chill in the air. T'Pol's jacket was flimsy and didn't seem to be keeping out the cold. He suggested she take his.

"It's not necessary."

"You look like you're shivering."

"I'm fine. The hotel is only a few blocks from here."

He removed his jacket and offered it to her. "I don't want you to catch cold."

"My immune system is stronger than yours. If anyone is to catch cold, it's likely to be you, Jonathan."

She was being as stubborn as she'd been that time on P'Jem when he'd offered to share his blanket with her. Eventually though she'd seen the practical side of it and snuggled up with him under it. The memory caused him to smile.

He slipped his jacket back on deciding not to protest his case. They walked several steps in silence before T'Pol spoke up.

"Tonight must have been a shock for you."

"Yeah."

"I was as much in the dark as you. I don't think Steve's decision to keep his wife's identity a secret was a prudent one. I told him so while you were in the kitchen."

"You did?"

"He'd initially thought it would be amusing, but now realizes his mistake."

"Oh."

"I apologize if tonight caused you any pain."

Seems everyone was apologizing to him today. "This wasn't your fault, T'Pol, so there's no need to apologize." He thought about bringing up the subject of how T'Pol knew about Maggie in the first place but decided against it. He wasn't in a mood for a fight with her. He felt tired.

They arrived outside the hotel. T'Pol asked if he'd like to come up for some tea.

"What? I'm being invited into the sanctuary?"

"I do not understand—"

"Forget it, I was being sarcastic. You go to such great pains to get away from me, packing at lightening speed to get out of my apartment and now you're inviting me up to your hotel room? It seems ironic."

"Jonathan—"

"No, don't bother explaining. I get it. You pity me. Poor Jonathan – he's had the past regurgitated for him this evening so now I have to play the Vulcan version of the good Samaritan and forget why I'm mad at him."

"You are incorrect about my motivations."

"I can't deal with hot and cold, T'Pol. Make your mind up – either play the ice queen or treat me like you normally do." She was about to respond when he cut her off again. "I'm tired and I don't want explanations. Goodnight."

With that he turned on his heel and left.

* * *

T'Pol entered the hotel and was about to walk over to the elevator when a desk clerk called out to her. He passed her a message saying a Captain Hernandez had called while she was out. T'Pol thanked him and made her way to her room.

Hernandez – she was the captain of the Columbia was she not? Yes, Jonathan had mentioned her briefly on the way over to Steve and Maggie's apartment. He'd been onboard this morning when Columbia had been taken out for a test run. She placed the note in a pocket and wondered why the captain had contacted her.

She felt tired so wouldn't return the call this evening. It would have to wait till the weekend.

She glanced around her room as she entered. It was adequate for her needs, was more of a suite than a room but not as spacious as Jonathan's apartment. And it didn't have a kitchen or a friendly quadruped. She was surprised to discover that she actually missed Porthos.

She prepared for bed with thoughts of this evening running through her mind. She wished Steve had been forthright about his wife. She'd had no idea he was married to Margaret Mullin but in hindsight was surprised that the thought had never crossed her mind. She'd been so intent on learning about Archer's involvement with Maggie she'd never asked Steve what had happened to Maggie after she left for Denver.

Well now she knew.

She wondered if Jonathan would be able to sleep tonight or would his thoughts be plagued with this evening's events? She remembered Steve telling her how he'd disappeared for three months after Maggie's refusal. Had tonight brought all those distasteful memories back? Well she'd never know; he didn't seem to be very receptive to talking to her.

Though that wasn't surprising, considering how she'd acted since his arrival. It wasn't that she'd planned on being "cold" as Jonathan had described, she just hadn't felt any reason to be overly welcoming. She was still curious about his early return. He'd said Fiji hadn't changed things, just as she'd predicted. But what about Rebecca? He hadn't even mentioned her.

She thought back to Maggie. She was a beautiful and intelligent woman. She could understand how both Steve and Jonathan had been enchanted by her. Perhaps Steve had secretly loved her while she'd been with Jonathan. He'd never said anything about it, only explaining that he and Maggie had been friends.

T'Pol slipped under the covers of her bed and examined the PADD she'd left at her bedside earlier today. She consulted the calendar she had stored on it. The Starfleet Ball was next Thursday. There was no great inclination on her part to attend. She knew what it entailed: dressing up, drinking, eating Hors D'oeuvresand mixing with other Starfleet staff. If it weren't for the fact that she'd soon be a Starfleet officer she would have declined. But now it would be considered rude to not attend.

It would not be a hardship to go, she decided. And the next day she could leave for Vulcan as she'd planned. Her mother was expecting her that Friday and she'd already booked passage on a Vulcan passenger ship. She had no idea how long she'd remain there. It would be prudent to speak to Admiral Forrest about when Enterprise's crew would be required to return to duty. She was unsure of how long the repairs on Enterprise would take. Whatever off-duty time remained there didn't seem much point in staying here on Earth.

Originally she'd thought about spending one or two weeks with her mother and then returning to Jonathan to spend their remaining time together. That plan had seemed all well and good more than two weeks ago when she'd gone looking for him after the debriefing, but now it seemed foolish and illogical.

She put the PADD down and lay her head on the pillow. She thought of the Illyrians and how nothing had been resolved. Forrest had said it would be discussed again next week amongst the council members but he didn't hold out much hope. She'd mentioned the aliens' plight to Soval at dinner last night just to gauge his reaction but he hadn't been forthcoming about offering help. She felt as if she'd run out of options.

Turning off her side lamp she rolled onto her side and noticed the gap left in the drapes, allowing the light from the street to seep in. She got up and closed the gap. Returning to bed she acknowledged just how out of sorts she felt.

Nothing had gone according to plan. Her friendship with Jonathan seemed to be non-existent and whatever else she'd hoped for obviously wasn't going to materialize, despite the letters she'd read.

Her efforts at helping him with his guilt had fallen to the wayside. She hadn't been able to get him to open up or help him indirectly through trying to arrange a rescue attempt for the Illyrians.

And now in her hope that he and Steve could rekindle their friendship Margaret Mullin had reappeared on the scene.

No, nothing had gone according to plan.

* * *

The alarm went off at 8am. Jonathan fumbled around to turn it off. He guessed T'Pol had set it to that time. He couldn't seem to find the switch to turn the damn screeching off and in his impatience ended up throwing it across the room. It hit the wall and the screeching came to an abrupt halt. He'd probably broken it.

He rolled onto his left and pulled the covers up to his neck. No point in getting up so early. It wasn't as if he had plans. However, it seemed Porthos thought otherwise. Ten minutes later the pup had jumped onto the bed and was seeking his master's attention.

Jonathan's protests had no effect on the animal and he eventually succumbed and crawled out of bed. Shielding his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the open curtains in the living room, he went over to the kitchen reaching for Porthos' breakfast. After filling the dog's bowl with food and water he returned to his bedroom closing the door behind him and getting back into bed.

He felt tired and hoped to get another hour or so of sleep in. Five minutes later he heard a call coming through. His first inclination was to let voicemail pick it up but then decided against it and went to answer.

"I hope I'm not calling too early." It was Admiral Forrest's wife.

"No, it's fine, Mrs. Forrest."

"Jon, how many times have I told you it's Phillipa?"

"Sorry, Phillipa."

"I hope you don't have plans Sunday evening. Max and I are hosting a barbecue for a few Starfleet officers and we'd love you to come. Very informal sort of thing, you know."

"Sounds nice." He wanted to ask who was coming but that would be considered rude.

"So that means you'll come?"

He said yes. Phillipa then asked him to invite T'Pol. Maxwell wanted her there – he thought it would make her feel more welcome amongst her soon-to-be fellow Starfleet officers. He answered that he would.

"Good. Then I'll see you both around 7pm?"

He nodded and finished the call. He yawned but decided against going back to bed and went to put some coffee on instead.

After breakfast he contacted T'Pol and told her of the invite. She said she'd be available. He offered to pick her up but she declined. She was obviously doing her ice maiden thing today. He was about to end the call when she mentioned that Erika had contacted her.

"Do you know what it might be about?"

"You haven't called her back yet?" he asked.

"No."

"I wouldn't rush it then. I'd leave it till Monday." So Erika was going to ask T'Pol even though he'd asked her specifically not to. Some friend she was!

"Jonathan, do you know what it is in regarding to?"

He didn't know whether to come clean or lie. No, he'd better tell the truth, he'd lied to T'Pol enough. "I believe she may be interested in poaching you from Enterprise."

"By that do you mean she wants to offer me a commission aboard Columbia?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I see."

"Would you consider it?" He asked, fear clutching at his heart.

"I do not know."

Ugh…why couldn't she have said something like Enterprise is my home and I'd never consider leaving? He'd had a bad feeling about his ever since Erika had brought it up. What would Enterprise be like without T'Pol? And who could replace her? He'd faced this dilemma once before just as they were en-route to Vulcan to drop T'Pol off before entering the Expanse. It had seemed unreal that T'Pol wouldn't be at his side. When she'd announced that she wasn't returning to Vulcan but instead accompanying him into the vast unknown he'd wanted to jump for joy and hug her.

"I can't imagine Enterprise without you," he said truthfully.

"I would miss the crew."

The crew! Just the crew! Well he only had himself to blame.

"And they'd miss you."

"I will have to give the matter some thought and wait to hear what Captain Hernandez has to say."

"Right."

"If that's all, I'll let you go."

"Yeah, I'll see you at Admiral Forrest's tomorrow then. You know where he lives?"

"Yes, Jonathan. Till tomorrow."

* * *

After returning from a walk with Porthos he noticed there were a few unread messages on the computer terminal. He opened the first one, which was from Rebecca. She hoped he'd resolved things with T'Pol. She was having a great time, and was due back in San Francisco on Wednesday and asked if he could pick her up at the shuttle port.

The next message to his surprise was from Jonathan Atkins. The boy said he hoped the captain didn't mind him getting in touch and he wanted to express his gratitude once more. He also said how much he'd enjoyed the captain's company on the yacht that day and wished that they lived closer. He mentioned that the captain's friend – Miss Summers had been to visit with them 2 days ago and he'd enjoyed seeing her again. He asked if it wouldn't be too much trouble could the captain write back, he'd be thrilled to hear from him. Miss Summers had felt that Captain Archer wouldn't mind. He also politely reminded him about his brother David's request for an autograph from T'Pol.

Hmm…so Rebecca had spent time with the Atkins — interesting. Jonathan wrote down a reminder to himself on a scrap of paper about asking T'Pol for the autograph and taped it to the monitor. He had actually forgotten to mention it to her. He smiled when he thought of the young boy and was pleased he'd been in touch. He'd be happy to write back to him.

The third message was a quick note from Trip in the Caymans. He was having a great time, enjoying the weather and hoped the captain was having an equally good time in Fiji. He was leaving the Caymans tomorrow and would be spending some time in South Carolina with a friend before returning to San Francisco. He hoped he and the captain could get together for a beer at the 602 when he returned. He also mentioned that he'd heard about the drowning incident on the news and congratulated him on a heroic rescue.

Taping a few keys on the keyboard he selected the compose feature on the messages menu and started to type a response to Jonathan. He apologized for the delay in the autograph and said he'd see to acquiring it this weekend. He thanked the boy for the note and said he was pleased to hear from him. He reminded him about the swimming lessons when he got back to Sydney. He asked how the rest of his vacation was going and what he and his brother had been up to. He signed it your friend, Captain Archer.

Next he wrote a short response to Trip, saying he looked forward to that drink in the 602 and asked the engineer to keep in touch. He mentioned that he'd returned from Fiji a week early but didn't expand on why. If Trip was curious he could always write back and ask.

He didn't respond to Rebecca immediately but instead decided to wait a few hours and call her directly.

At 4pm, he put the call through, hoping to find her in. He was in luck, as her smiley blonde haired face answered.

"Hey, Jon! What a nice surprise."

It made a change for someone to be pleased to see or hear from him, especially after the icy treatment he'd received from T'Pol. Not that he didn't deserve it; it was just pleasant to hear Rebecca's enthusiasm. To be honest he'd missed her these last few days and was looking forward to her coming back to San Francisco. He hoped she wouldn't rush off on her next assignment or to Washington, D.C and that they could spend some time together.

"I got your message but thought I'd call you back instead."

"Well thanks; it's great to hear from you. How are you?"

"Still breathing," he kidded.

"Jon, is it that bad? What happened with T'Pol?"

"Nothing happened. She's mad at me and doesn't want to talk."

"Did you explain about us being friends?"

"I never got the chance."

"What do you mean? That should have been the first thing you said to her."

"Believe me, I tried. She wasn't very receptive. But that's just one of my problems."

"What's been going on?"

"You won't believe who I had dinner with last night."

"Do I get a clue?" she asked; a playful tone in her voice.

"Someone from my past."

"Not much of a clue, Jon, but let me take a wild guess. Maggie?"

"You hit the nail on the head."

"Okay, you've had your fun, Jon. Who was it really?"

"I'm not kidding. It was her – in the flesh."

"No way! Boy I was totally grasping at straws. That must have been some dinner! I wouldn't mind being a fly on that wall."

"It was awkward and uncomfortable."

"I can imagine it was hell for you."

He noticed her glancing at her watch. "Got a hot date or something?"

"Actually I'm going scuba diving with Paolo. I'm supposed to meet him in 30 minutes."

"Rebecca, what is it with you and Italians? First Patrizio, now this Paolo—"

"He's a diving instructor, Jon," she laughed.

"And how come when I was there I could barely get you in the water and now you're going diving?"

"Jealous?" she teased.

"You wish."

They both laughed. Boy, it felt good to laugh. "Listen, I just wanted to say I'll be there on Wednesday to pick you up. What time's your flight coming in?"

"2pm local time."

"Okay, I'll be there, but I'll probably be in sunglasses and a baseball cap."

"Reporters giving you trouble again, Jon?"

"Well they tried the day I arrived. Things seem to be quieter, but I don't want to tempt fate."

"Understandable. I'll see you Wednesday then and I want the whole scoop on Maggie."

"Okay," he smiled. "By the way I heard from Jonathan Atkins. He tells me you visited with them a few days ago."

"Yeah, it was nice. I'll fill you in on Wednesday. Gotta dash."

"Right, don't want to keep Paolo waiting."

She flashed him her trademark smile, bid him goodbye and the screen went blank. Well he hoped she had fun.

Rebecca was one of those people who seemed eternally cheerful and bubbly. Whatever went wrong she tried to look at the positive side of things. Oh he'd known her to go through some rough patches and he'd even seen her cry a couple times, but overall she seemed to be a tower of strength. She was a woman who had a real passion for living and he admired that.

Yes, the more he thought about it, the happier he was about her coming back.

_TBC_


	25. Chapter 25

**Redemption **

**Chapter 25**

T'Pol ordered a taxi to meet her outside the hotel at around 6:15pm. Since Admiral Forrest lived on the other side of the Golden Gate, in Mill Valley, she wanted to ensure she arrived on time.

The traffic was practically non-existent and by 6:30pm she was already crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. She watched the people walking or jogging along the footpath on the bridge and remembered the day she'd spent with Jonathan walking along here. It seemed so long ago, yet in reality it was exactly 2 weeks ago.

Ten minutes later the taxi pulled up outside the Forrest family home and T'Pol stepped out. She hoped her early arrival would not inconvenience the admiral or his wife. She was greeted at the front door by Phillipa Forrest who ushered her in. T'Pol apologized for being early but Phillipa explained she wasn't the first to arrive. Erika Hernandez and her chief engineer were already here.

"I didn't know Captain Hernandez had been invited."

"Oh yes, Erika and Jonathan go way back. I would have thought he'd told you. Max tried to invite people Jonathan knew."

"I see. Was this social activity arranged especially for the captain?"

"Between you and me, T'Pol – do you mind if I call you T'Pol?" The Vulcan told her she didn't. "I think Max just wants him to have a good time, get out and socialize. I know he'd hoped Jon would get some rest in Fiji, but that doesn't seem to have happened."

"It's kind of the admiral to be so concerned."

"I often think Max sees Jon as his responsibility, especially since Henry died when Jon was so young."

"You've known Captain Archer that long?"

"Oh, yes."

Phillipa led T'Pol to the garden. She noticed a Latino woman in her 40s with dark hair tied back talking to the Admiral and a younger woman standing next to both of them. Admiral Forrest made all the introductions.

Erika smiled at T'Pol. "It's good to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you. I had hoped to hear from you, but I wasn't sure if you got my message."

"I did, Captain. Captain Archer thought you wouldn't want to be disturbed at the weekend so I thought it prudent to wait till Monday to contact you."

"Hmm…Jon is sneaky; he doesn't want me to contact you. I hope we can talk privately some time this evening."

"That would be agreeable."

"What are the two of you plotting?" Maxwell teased, moving over to the two of them.

"We were discussing ship's business, Admiral," Erika explained.

"I believe the captain is eager for T'Pol to join us on the Columbia," Christina Dobson interjected.

Maxwell looked surprised but didn't get a chance to comment as he heard the doorbell ring and excused himself as he went to answer.

"My chief engineer doesn't beat around the bush," Erika explained. "But I presume you had some idea that's why I got in touch?"

T'Pol explained that Jonathan had suggested that might be the reason Erika had wanted to see her.

"Would you consider it?" Erika asked.

"I would like to discuss the particulars before coming to any decision." She heard Jonathan's familiar voice at this point. Turning in that direction she saw him approach with Maxwell Forrest. He had a frown painted on his face as he spied her with Erika.

"T'Pol." She looked into his face as he greeted her and noticed how tired he looked, as if he hadn't slept last night. The lines around his eyes seemed more pronounced. She wanted to ask him if he was well, but felt it inappropriate in company.

"Jonathan." When she noticed the surprised expression on Christina and Erika's face at using her captain's first name she chided herself for being informal. What did they think? Jonathan must have noticed as he quickly covered for her, explaining how he'd asked T'Pol to call him by his first name off-duty.

"You look tired, Jon." Erika said, after he'd greeted her and Christina.

"I was up with Porthos most of the night. Seems he ate something that didn't agree with him. I had to take him to the vet this morning."

"Is he better?" T'Pol asked, genuinely concerned for the pup.

"He should be okay. Vet says to keep him off solids for the next day or so."

"T'Pol informed me you told her not to contact me until Monday," Erika said to Jonathan, after a few moments silence.

"Did I? I can't recall." He sounded resigned.

"Jon thinks I'm trying to poach you," Erika said to T'Pol. "I don't see any reason why it would be wrong to offer you a position. The decision is yours."

T'Pol nodded, feeling uncomfortable. Jonathan's jaw was clenched and she could see he was restraining anger. It was also evident that Erika was trying to bait him. She wondered why and what the history between the two of them was. "Mrs. Forrest mentioned that you know each other from a long time ago."

"Yes, I worked with Frank Gardner, A.G. Robinson and Jon on the NX-Project at one time."

T'Pol remembered the story of A.G. when she and Archer had explored the dark matter nebula. But he'd never mentioned Erika. "I see."

"Not for long. Erika transferred out to another team after a few months and Duvall replaced her," Jonathan explained.

"Actually that was Jon's doing. Some silly rule he had."

T'Pol noticed them exchange glances and Jonathan looked annoyed. Her curiosity was piqued as to what Erika implied.

Erika excused herself saying she'd go help Phillipa in the kitchen. Maxwell invited Christina to come to his study and have a look at some schematics for engine adjustments to Columbia's warp drive. She asked if Archer and T'Pol wanted to join them but they declined.

"So you found the house okay," Jonathan said after a brief silence.

"Yes. I'm sorry to hear about Porthos."

"Thanks. He'll be fine."

"Captain Hernandez is correct, you do look tired."

"Yeah, I guess I do. What did you tell her?"

"About?"

"Joining Columbia, did you agree?"

"We haven't discussed it in detail and I haven't given it much thought yet."

"Oh. Well it would be kind if you gave me some notice, you know so I can actually find a new first officer."

"Of course…that is if I decide to accept."

"Right."

He moved a few paces away to the table where there was an assortment of snacks and shoved a few potato chips into his mouth. He asked if she wanted anything but she declined. He walked back to her carrying a small bowl of roasted peanuts.

"Do you know who else has been invited this evening?" she asked.

"Not a clue. Phillipa just said they were inviting a few Starfleet officers. I had no idea Erika would be here."

"What was the silly rule?" she inquired.

"Nothing." He seemed hesitant in answering. He glanced down at the lawn, then up at her. "Actually, Erika and I dated for a few months – I broke it off because of fraternization rules."

"I see." She was surprised, she couldn't imagine them being a couple – she didn't seem his type. But what did she know? Her only frame of reference was Maggie and Rebecca. Erika seemed nothing like either of those two women. "Captain Hernandez did not agree with you?"

"She reported to A.G., not directly to me, so she didn't see the conflict. But if A.G. was out testing a new design, then I was in charge and automatically became her commanding officer. I didn't think it would be right."

She nodded, clasping her hands behind her back.

"Actually that's not exactly the truth," he confessed. "I used it as an excuse."

"The fraternization rule?"

"Yeah…I didn't want to hurt her feelings but I wasn't in any position to have a steady relationship…things were so crazy. But I didn't want her to feel bad."

"Interesting."

"What do you mean?"

"How humans make up untruths in order to protect each other."

"Sometimes it's for the best."

"Vulcans value truth highly," she stated. "I wonder…" She didn't continue her train of thought.

"What, T'Pol?"

"It is unimportant."

"You were going to say something. I'd appreciate if you finished your sentence."

"Very well. I wonder if you using the fraternization rules as an excuse with Erika isn't the only time you have employed that tactic." She remembered how he'd pulled his hand away from her at the pier, insisting they couldn't be together for that very reason. She hadn't been convinced then, and she was even less convinced now.

Using a lie to protect someone…what if his relationship with Rebecca was a fabrication also? That would explain why she hadn't returned to San Francisco with him. Jonathan was such a complicated mess. It was hard to understand why he'd weave a web of deceit, but trying to look at it from his point of view – his skewed mixed up head, it made a little sense.

Had he used Rebecca as an excuse not to be with her? And had he seen that as a way of protecting her? It seemed highly illogical, but at times humans were embodied that trait, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

"Jonathan?" He'd made no comment on her observation.

He massaged his temples. "I think I've got a headache coming on. I'm going to ask the Admiral if he's got any pain medication."

"I'll come with you," she offered.

"Why?" he asked. "I don't need a nursemaid." He walked off before she had a chance to say another word. He'd seemed irritable. She chalked it up to his not sleeping last night, though she did not care for his tone.

She poured herself a glass of water from the refreshments table and pondered as to when the other guests would arrive.

* * *

Jonathan felt much better after Forrest had given him a hypospray for his headache. The Admiral explained he had a whole batch of them which he sometimes used when his back was troubling him. He was grateful for it. Hyposprays worked a lot faster than pills.

By 7:30pm all the guests had arrived. Jonathan was pleasantly surprised to see Malcolm Reed among them, along with Phlox. Also in attendance was Captain Frank Gardner with a pretty lady on his arm which he'd introduced as his fiancé. Well wonders would never cease…Gardner getting married, huh?

Jonathan wondered how his bride to be would feel about being a Starfleet widow, as Maggie had so aptly put it once. After Maggie he'd decided marriage and Starfleet didn't mix, but Forrest was married and now Gardener. And it wasn't as if they were the only ones.

The guests were spoiled for choice with the food. There were spare ribs, steak, salmon, Polish kielbasa, and even some vegetarian type burgers for those who didn't want to eat meat. To accompany that there was a wide choice of side dishes including potato and pasta salads, French baguettes, coleslaw and cold rice mixed with tuna and sweetcorn.

He approached Gardener to offer his congratulations. It seemed Erika had beaten him to it and was talking to him and his fiancé. "Nice to see one of us captains here tie the knot," Jonathan stated as he shook Frank's hand. "Congratulations."

"Thanks, Jon. This is Karen," Frank replied, introducing his soon to be wife. Jonathan offered his congratulations to her as well. "You okay with him flying off into the unknown at a moment's notice?" he asked Karen, the curiosity nipping at him.

"We did think Frank was going to get Columbia, but now we're glad he didn't. He's going to be stationed on Earth for the time being."

"I did you a favour in getting picked," quipped Erika, smiling.

"Maybe you did. Anyway, I think they're grooming me to be an Admiral," Frank said.

"Oh, know something I don't?" Jon asked.

"No, just speculating. But I've been Earth bound most of my career."

"Not if Soval had had his way."

"True," Frank laughed. "When you heading back out to explore the vast unknown?"

"Enterprise is still being repaired and upgraded. Gonna be a while still."

"You must be itching to get back out there."

For the first time in his life Jonathan realized he wasn't. There was still too much to sort out in his head for him to be able to go out and enjoy exploration again. And there were the Illyrians. He couldn't in good conscience pick up where he'd left off before the Xindi attack and forget them.

He excused himself and went over to talk to Admiral Forrest who was piling some food onto his plate. "Admiral, I was wondering if you'd have time tomorrow to see me, you know so we could talk—"

"Actually now that you bring it up Jon, I was going to ask you to meet with me at 2pm tomorrow. I'm doing an inspection of Enterprise and I thought you'd want to come along."

"Yes, I would. But I'd also like to discuss—"

"The Illyrians. Yes I know. I'm sure we'll get a chance to do so."

"It's important."

"I know, Jon. But you shouldn't let it occupy your every thought. Why not relax and try to enjoy this evening?"

Jonathan felt anger bubble inside him. Why couldn't Forrest, his friend, someone he'd known since childhood, understand? Or was that only possible if you'd actually been there and seen the look of hatred in the Illyrian captain's eyes? It was futile to argue with Forrest now; they'd be time tomorrow to discuss this in full.

"Sure, I better go and mingle some more."

"That's the spirit," Max said, seemingly pleased with himself. Jonathan left him and made his way over to Malcolm and Phlox. He hadn't seen Reed since they'd returned back to Earth and was curious what his armory officer had been up to.

"I just got back from England, sir."

"Your parents left Malaysia?" Archer asked.

"No, sir. I wasn't visiting with my parents. An aunt and some cousins who live in Leicester. Do you know it?"

"Can't say that I do."

"Well it's not exactly famous, but it's where my family is originally from. It's a reasonably sized town about 100 miles north of London."

"Have a good time?"

"Yeah, revisited some old haunts and looked up some old friends."

"Good."

"And you, sir?"

"Oh you mean my trip to Fiji?" Malcolm nodded. "Yeah that was fine."

"I think I'd have stayed out there the whole time if it had been me."

"Mmm. It was beautiful but I'm not really one for vacations," Jonathan explained.

"Nonsense, Captain!" Phlox interjected. "Everyone needs a vacation, even you."

"I was there a week, Phlox."

"So why did you rush back?"

"Well the media were on my tail again, and believe me, that can get pretty tiresome." That was a good enough explanation and it was partly true.

"I heard about that," Malcolm said. "That was quite something – you rescuing that boy."

"Not really. Anyone would have done it." Jonathan couldn't understand why he was treated like a hero over this – any decent human being who was a good swimmer would have acted in the same manner.

"The captain is being modest, as usual," Phlox explained. Jonathan didn't agree but didn't pursue the matter either. He asked Phlox if he planned on going back to Denobula for a visit before Enterprise went back into commission.

"No, two of my wives are coming to visit this week. They arrive on Wednesday – just in time for the Starfleet Ball. That will be interesting event; I've never been to one."

"Yeah, I guess." Jonathan couldn't muster any enthusiasm at the thought.

"I notice T'Pol seems to be getting along well with Captain Hernandez. It's nice to see her make new friends," Phlox commented.

"Don't be so naïve, Phlox. Erika is trying to get T'Pol to join Columbia. I'd stay clear of her if I were you, she might want you as her doctor."

"Such macabre thoughts, Captain. Not that I'd ever leave Enterprise, but it would be flattering to be asked." He gave Jonathan one of his Cheshire cat grins.

"Think she'll ask me?" Malcolm asked excitedly.

"You all tired of Enterprise?" Jonathan asked, in a serious tone. He felt a little hurt that his crew was so eager to jump ship.

"Of course not," Malcolm answered. "By the way who's that pretty little filly next to Captain Hernandez?"

"Commander Christina Dobson, Columbia's chief engineer."

"Hmm…looks a little young for that position."

"Erika obviously doesn't think so." Malcolm answered by saying he'd go and introduce himself.

Phlox noted that the captain looked tired and seemed out of sorts. Jonathan mentioned Porthos and that he hadn't slept very well. The doctor didn't seem convinced and felt there was more to it.

"You're concerned T'Pol may leave Enterprise?"

"I don't have a hold on her. If she rather advance her career by joining Columbia, I won't stand in her way."

"But you'd miss her."

"I'd be sad to see any of my crew leave Enterprise."

"Going on vacation didn't help."

"Excuse me?"

"You're troubled, Captain. I know you hate this subject but maybe it's time to consider—"

"Seeing a shrink?"

"I hear your friend Steve Johnson is a psychiatrist."

Oh boy, don't even go there, Jonathan thought. He'd managed to put the scheming Dr. Johnson and his wife out of his mind for the day. Now Phlox had gone and reminded him of them.

"I hear that too. Nice cushy job at Starfleet Medical."

"I detect sarcasm in your voice, Captain. Am I mistaken about your being friends with this man?"

"Long story, Phlox."

"I'm in no rush."

Jonathan smiled. Of course not, Phlox would only be too interested to learn more of Johnson and find out he was married to Archer's ex-girlfriend, the one he'd wanted to wed. Oh yes Phlox would have a field day.

"We knew each other a long time ago. I wouldn't go so far as to say we are close friends anymore."

"That can always be remedied," Phlox said; his voice full of optimism. "If not, well I'm sure there's a fine selection of therapists and counselors at Starfleet medical. Failing that, you know I have several degrees in—"

"I remember, doctor. And thank you for the offer."

Phillipa Forrest walked in at that moment with a large cake in her hands covered in white icing. She placed it on the table and called Jonathan over. She said she'd made it especially for him as Max had told her carrot cake was his favourite. He really didn't want the attention but thanked her and wondered how Forrest knew such minutiae about him. She cut him a large slice handing it to him on a white dessert plate. It almost felt like it was his birthday. He sampled a piece and declared it was delicious. Phillipa seemed to beam at his reaction then cut slices for the other guests.

"Come on, T'Pol," she encouraged. "You have to try at least one slice."

The Vulcan didn't seem too enthused at the idea but Jonathan guessed she didn't wish to be rude and so accepted a small slice.

"How is your headache?" she asked Jonathan.

"Oh it was gone about 2 hours ago. Forrest keeps some hyposprays in his bathroom for his bad back and let me use one."

"I see."

"Thanks for asking," he added, finishing off his cake. Phillipa immediately noticed he'd finished and called him over to get another slice. Normally he wouldn't indulge but since it was so delicious he couldn't resist, though he began to wonder if he'd need to buy new clothes soon. Things were beginning to feel a little tight around the waist. He'd just go for a long jog in the morning.

He returned to T'Pol who'd only taken one bite out of her slice. "Don't like it, huh?"

"I don't understand the pleasure you derive from such sweet concoctions."

"Guess you need to be human to do so." Jonathan finished his second slice and T'Pol offered him hers. "I shouldn't," he protested.

"I would not wish for it to go to waste."

"True," he agreed and took her portion from her, glancing up to make sure Phillipa didn't see. She appeared to be busy talking to Frank and Karen about their upcoming nuptials.

T'Pol looked in that direction as well.

"It's interesting to see that Vulcan and certain human captains have something in common."

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"They take life mates. It is most common on Vulcan."

"And their wives don't mind their mates being away for such long periods?"

"Often it is the wives who leave the husbands behind. We have a lot of female captains."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound chauvinistic."

"No apology necessary, I was simply stating a fact. As for long absences, they are common amongst Vulcans."

"Probably have something to do with your long lifespan."

"Yes," she agreed.

Jonathan couldn't think of any more to say and felt awkward that the conversation had stalled.

Erika came over and asked T'Pol if they could meet tomorrow at Starfleet around 1pm to discuss the transfer to Columbia. The way she said it made Archer's heart skip a beat. Had T'Pol decided? T'Pol agreed to the meeting. Erika said that she and Christina were going to call it a night – they were running some engine tests on Columbia at 7am tomorrow so they wanted an early night.

"It was nice to see you again, Jon," Erika said. "I'll see you tomorrow, T'Pol." With that she bid them goodnight.

Jonathan sighed. He suddenly felt very tired and just wanted to go to bed. He didn't even want to contemplate the idea of Enterprise without T'Pol. He gathered his and T'Pol's plate and strolled across the lawn to the house to put them in the dishwasher. Inside he found Phillipa making coffee.

"What's the long face for?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he lied, trying to put on a fake smile.

"You don't look fine, more like you just lost your best friend. Wanna talk about it?"

That seemed everyone solution's didn't it? Just get it off your chest and all your troubles were going to miraculously disappear. If only it was that easy!

"No thanks, I'm fine, honestly. Just a little tired. I'll probably be leaving soon."

"Jon, it's only 10pm and you're the guest of honor."

He gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Oh nothing."

"You must have meant something by guest of honor."

"Well just that Max is worried about you and he thought a little socializing might make you feel better. Why not stay a bit longer and have coffee?"

Ah, so that's what all of this was about. Well if Forrest really wanted to make him feel better he'd help him with the Illyrians. He didn't need parties or social functions being organized on his behalf. "It was kind of the Admiral and I thank you for your hospitality, Phillipa. But I really am tired and think I'll be going."

She tried to persuade him to stay but to no avail. He wanted to get away. The evening had turned out to be more of a downer than he'd expected. It seemed for certain now that T'Pol was going to accept Erika's offer, if she hadn't already accepted it. Then Phlox had reminded him of Steve and Maggie, and suggested therapy again. Forrest had dismissed his plea about the Illyrians and told him to relax, and on top of that he had to admit he felt a bit jealous of Frank Gardner. The guy looked so blissfully happy – it just didn't seem fair. If Soval had had his way it would be Gardener right now suffering from guilt over the Illyrians and what had gone on in the Expanse, not celebrating an engagement.

He said goodnight to Phillipa and went back out to the others to announce he was leaving. To his surprise T'Pol asked if he'd give her a ride back to her hotel. He agreed, they both said their goodbyes and left the house.

He opened the passenger door for her and she climbed in. "Why the change of heart, T'Pol?" he asked as he got in.

"I don't understand."

"I offered to pick you up yesterday to bring you here and you seemed to hate the idea."

"I think hate is too strong a word. I did not wish to trouble you."

"But it's okay now?" He was confused.

"You can drop me off at your apartment and I'll walk the rest of the way."

"That's not what I mean." He turned his head as he backed out of Forrest's drive to see if there was any traffic. "I'm more than happy to drop you were you want, I'm surprised that you are willing for me to do so. That's why I asked – why the change of heart?"

"I see no reason to over analyze something this trivial."

"Ah, but is it trivial? I feel as if you're evading the question, accusing me of over analysis when in fact you don't want to explain the reason."

"Jonathan, you said you were leaving and in that instant I decided to ask you. There wasn't a great deal of thought to it."

"Okay." He wasn't satisfied with her answer but decided not to probe further. He turned the CD player on, not realizing what disc he'd left in there. It was the jazz music they'd listened to in his apartment when they'd danced and he'd kissed her. He wondered if she'd remember. If she did, she didn't comment on it.

They arrived outside her hotel and she thanked him for the ride. "T'Pol?" he said before she stepped out.

"Yes?"

"Listen, it's been awkward between us since I got back from Fiji. Can't we declare a truce?"

"You make it sound like we're at war."

"No, but we haven't exactly been on friendly terms, have we?"

"What do you want from me, Jonathan?"

"I'd like us to go back to how it used to be."

"A lot has happened."

"I know." He wasn't sure if she was just referring to him going away to Fiji or if she meant it in broader terms like how they'd drifted apart during the Xindi conflict. Or more accurately how he'd shut her and everyone else out. "Are you really going to transfer to Columbia?" he asked after a long pause.

"I will discuss it with Captain Hernandez tomorrow. In light of current circumstances perhaps it would be a wise choice."

"How is it a wise choice?" She was slipping through his fingers and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"I don't believe we can return to our former comradeship, Jonathan. Working together might be difficult and uncomfortable for both of us."

"Don't say that."

"Then it would be difficult for me."

"I see." He couldn't say anything more at the moment as his throat felt tight and his emotions were playing havoc with him.

"If there's nothing more, I'll bid you goodnight," she said as she started to open the door.

"T'Pol, wait." He said and then added please. There was so much he wanted to say – explain about Rebecca, tell her how he really felt, explain that she was right, how she'd been right all along and that he'd try and get better – if she wanted him to see a therapist he would. But most of all he wanted to tell her that he wanted to try…try with her, give their relationship a chance to grow, to blossom into something more than just friendship.

"I understand you being angry with me and hurt, but I'd like to make amends. Tell me how I can do that."

"Jonathan, I think it's more important that you make amends with yourself."

"I'm not talking about me right now." Why was she trying to change the subject? "I'm talking about us." When she didn't respond it finally hit him. She didn't feel that way anymore and she wanted to get away from him. That's why she was going to transfer to Columbia, because the idea of working with him was too distasteful.

"I will always be your friend, Jonathan. But I think it prudent that you concentrate on being fit to captain Enterprise."

"It doesn't feel like you're my friend. Since I've been back at times it's felt like you could barely tolerate being in the same room with me."

"I believe you're exaggerating."

"Okay, but you don't deny it, do you? Maybe it's an exaggeration, but you do find it hard to be around me. That's why you are going to join Columbia."

"I already explained why I was considering that."

"Yes, you said you'd find it uncomfortable to be around me."

"You didn't understand my meaning."

"I think I did."

"No."

"T'Pol—"

"Jonathan, I do not wish to fight. I will bid you goodnight and I thank you for the lift." She got out of the car and started to walk towards the hotel entrance. He watched her with sadness in his heart. He'd gone through terrible heartache once before in his life and he'd vowed that it would never happen again. He was older now, more mature and supposedly more impervious. But he wasn't so sure.

He turned the car engine back on and drove around to the back of the hotel and parked the car. He entered through the back entrance and took the elevator up to her room. He couldn't leave it like this between them.

He rang the bell to her door and waited, his heart pounding in his chest. She opened the door, obviously surprised to see him.

He'd rehearsed a few lines coming up in the elevator but now his mind went blank. All he could think to ask was whether he could come in. She seemed reluctant but invited him in nonetheless.

She closed the door behind him. He glanced around the room – it was spacious for a hotel room. The décor was elegant – Starfleet must be paying a lot to keep the Enterprise crew in such lavish surroundings.

"Did you want something to drink?" she asked.

"No, thanks."

"You wish to continue our discussion, I presume."

Is that what he wanted? No, not really. That conversation hadn't gone to plan and if he tried to resume it now he feared it would go further off-track. She stood with her back ram-rod straight and her arms behind her back. She'd often stood that way in his presence when she'd first come aboard Enterprise. It made him think she was uncomfortable, and fuelled the feelings that she didn't want to be around him. He had to know one way or the other.

"T'Pol," he said, stepping closer to her, taking her shoulders in his arms.

"Yes?"

He gazed deeply into her hazel eyes looking for something – some clue, some spark of emotion to give him hope. But her eyes seemed as emotionless as she was now and he couldn't read her.

"I need you." It was a plea from the heart. He couldn't stand going on like this any longer. He needed to know one way or another if there was a chance with her. With trepidation he stroked her cheek. "I missed you."

Whilst there was no reaction from her she hadn't stepped away. He lowered his head and placed his lips gently on hers. It was a fleeting kiss – their mouths barely made contact before she pulled away.

"This is a bad idea, Jonathan."

"I'm sorry." He felt like a stupid fool. "I apologize for barging in here." Rejected, he turned around and left, with a heavy heart and his hopes crushed.

_TBC_


	26. Chapter 26

**Redemption**

**Chapter 26**

T'Pol watched the door close behind him and for a moment considered going after him. She wasn't sure why she'd pulled away. She felt confused and perplexed by her own actions.

At the barbecue she'd been starting to analyze his actions and her theories had made sense. If only he'd been straight with her about Rebecca.

She opened her hotel room door and looked down the corridor. There was no sign of him. She made her way to the elevator then entered the hotel lobby. He was no where to be seen. She asked the clerk if he'd seen him. He said a man fitting Archer's description had just made his way to the parking lot at the back of the hotel.

As she stepped into the car park she saw his car drive away. She hung her head down and concluded that this was probably for the best. She wasn't sure what had spurred her on to try and stop him. Maybe it was that sad look in his eyes or the dejected tone in his voice as he'd apologized for his actions.

The one thing she didn't wish to do was hurt him, and yet she appeared to have done a fine job of it. Why were relationships so complicated? Her knowledge was limited to observation of other couples. As for herself, the only thing close to dating she'd experienced was the few meetings that had been arranged by her family with Koss.

She returned to her bedroom and made some chamomile tea. She felt restless and agitated. She needed to meditate.

He'd asked her how he could make amends – she wished she'd told him that she needed to know exactly what was going on with him. She wanted the truth about Rebecca and she wanted to know his intentions. But instead she'd side-tracked him. Oh she did want him to deal with his own issues as well, but when they'd returned to Earth, she'd hoped by being together they could work on these issues and she could be some source of comfort to him.

His request had caught her off guard. And his comments about her not wanting to be around him were far from the truth. He didn't seem to realize that she considered taking the position on Columbia because being near him on Enterprise would be too hard in light of her feelings for him. Too much had happened for them to return to the pleasant comradeship they'd had. She imagined meetings in the Ready Room charged with tension – it might be that they couldn't work together anymore and taking a position with Hernandez was her only option.

But she hadn't decided yet.

So why had she pulled back tonight? The feel of his lips on hers had been pleasant but her logic reminded her going down this path was fraught with danger. He offered no guarantees and he hadn't exactly declared his own feelings. He just said he needed her and missed her. That didn't mean he loved her.

And then there was Maggie – maybe seeing her had brought back some old forgotten feelings and he didn't know how to deal with them. Had kissing her had anything to do with that? She was uncertain. Yes, it would have been best to discuss it but he'd been so hurt by her rejection he'd practically ran out the door.

She sat down on the thick carpet, crossed legged and sipped her tea. What would she tell Captain Hernandez tomorrow? Would she require an immediate answer? And Jonathan, as her commanding officer, had a right to know. She couldn't keep him waiting forever. It wasn't fair as he'd pointed out to her today at the barbecue.

Did she want to join Columbia? It would be a brand new crew and a new captain. She'd become attached to Enterprise and liked the familiarity. It would take a while to adjust. She realized in a moment of clarity that she didn't want to leave Enterprise at all – it had been her home for three years and the main reason why she'd decided to join Starfleet. Joining Columbia seemed illogical.

But what about Jonathan? Could their friendship be salvaged? Was being just friends even possible and more importantly, was that what she wanted? Contemplating all this made her head hurt.

Communication between them was definitely a problem. And yes she was hurt about him going to Fiji. Over the last few days it had prevented her over from speaking her true feelings. She'd waited for him to say something more than he'd simply missed her. She wanted an explanation. How could he expect her to drop everything and come running into his embrace just because he said he needed and missed her?

Her memory was excellent. She recalled with clarity exactly how he'd treated her before going to Fiji, how each time she'd reached out to him he'd pulled away. Every time they'd shared a tender embrace he'd ended up apologizing and saying it shouldn't have happened. Who was to say that would not happen again? He'd given her no indication whatsoever that he wished to pursue a serious relationship with her.

And for a Vulcan there was no other way. She would not be part of any kind of casual fling or romantic interlude. Her people bonded with their mates for life. It was that simple.

She finished her tea and prepared some candles for meditation. She needed to cleanse her mind. Hopefully she'd feel calmer in the morning.

* * *

Jonathan drove around the city, not wanting to go home straight away. He'd felt tired at the barbecue but that seemed secondary now in relation to how extremely foolish he felt. What had he been thinking? That she'd return his kiss and welcome him with open arms?

Sure that had been his wishful thinking but the stark reality was a lot less pleasant. Why hadn't he just told her the truth – instead of declaring his love he'd only said he needed her. Boy, talk about being selfish! But there was that fear that went way back, probably to the time when Maggie had refused him. He'd never told another woman that he loved them. He'd been rejected once – he didn't think he could cope with T'Pol rejecting him after confessing those three words. Tonight was bad enough.

He recalled the cold emotionless look in her eyes. It hadn't always been that way. He'd experienced the warmth in her eyes that night in the conference room when he's so rudely rejected her and accused her of experimentation. Then that day at the pier when he'd jerked his hand away. I'm an idiot, he decided. Only an idiot would refuse the affections of the woman he loved.

His head felt all jumbled up – too much had happened in the last few days and keeping his emotions in check was starting to take a toll. Steve, Maggie, the press hounding him, Erika and her selfishness, Forrest's complacency about the Illyrians and T'Pol hating him were hard to deal with all at once.

Did she hate him or was he exaggerating as she claimed? Okay, hate was a strong word but she sure didn't seem to want to be in his company. It's my fault entirely, he decided. Rebecca had given him hope, making him think he could patch things up with T'Pol. That didn't seem to be the case. And now he was about to lose her as his first officer as well. That was adding insult to injury.

He could not imagine her not being there. He'd felt that way ever since Forrest had told him T'Pol was to be recalled back to Vulcan in disgrace because of what had happened at P'Jem. It was then that he'd felt this strange pang in his heart and had to face up to the fact that he'd developed an affection for his first officer. It might even be more than that – but one thing he'd known for certain: he couldn't imagine Enterprise without her being around.

He couldn't imagine it then and he sure couldn't imagine it now. So what should he do? There was nothing he could do…he wasn't T'Pol's keeper – if this is what she wanted he was powerless to change her mind.

He pulled the car over and turned the engine off. He hadn't even been sure where he was going. He glanced around and realized he'd headed south on the 101 and he'd ended up in Palo Alto. He was near Stanford. Boy, that seemed like another century now. That was even before Maggie arrived on the scene.

Then his life had consisted of getting good grades and winning the local water polo championships. Yeah, it was more like another lifetime. He'd known then that his life was pretty much mapped out for him – it was his duty to carry on the family legacy and fulfill his father's dream. But back in those innocent times he'd never imagined he'd be in a position like he was today — flummoxed, guilty, scared and alone.

He buried his face in the steering wheel and sighed. He'd get through this wouldn't he? He had to, there wasn't much choice. If he had no hope of being with T'Pol then life would simply have to go on. He'd concentrate on rescuing the Illyrians and once that had been satisfactory resolved, well he hoped he could continue his father's dream and explore the strange new worlds out there waiting to be discovered.

But somehow that idea didn't satisfy him. Something was missing. It was what Frank Gardener had – a partner, a mate. Jonathan had wanted it once – with Maggie. He'd planned their lives out expecting her full cooperation. Her refusal had caught him completely off guard. To protect himself he'd decided not to give his heart to anyone again. Caroline, Erika and Rebecca had all deserved better. He was grateful that at least a good friendship had come out of his relationship with Rebecca.

He yawned and realized it was getting late. It was already after 11pm and he needed a clear head tomorrow for when he spoke to Forrest. He turned the car around and head back to San Francisco.

He entered the apartment and noticed a message had been left on the computer. He played it and Maggie's face appeared. She wanted to make arrangements for that lunch they'd agreed to and asked if he was free Wednesday around noon. He was supposed to pick up Rebecca at 2pm from the shuttleport but estimated he could do both. But he wouldn't call Maggie now, it was late.

It would be weird talking to her, one on one. The dinner at her apartment had been strange enough, but he hadn't shared a meal alone with her since that fateful night when she'd refused him. They'd had dinner at a cozy Italian Place in Ghirardelli Square before they'd walked back to her place. He'd been so nervous, checking his pants pocket every few minutes for the ring he was going to offer her.

She'd been completely unsuspecting. Their dinner conversation had entailed talking about some exams she was studying for and what outfit she was going to wear for his graduation from Flight School the next day. She never turned up. He didn't know how he'd got through that day – the memory was mostly a blur.

Was there any point to rehashing all of this? Didn't he have enough on his plate with his feelings for T'Pol without bringing up the past? Well he had to admit he was curious to hear Maggie's explanation – if she even had one. And he wanted to know about her and Steve, whether that had been the real reason for her refusal.

He checked on Porthos who was sound asleep and got ready for bed.

* * *

Archer and Forrest were welcomed aboard Enterprise by Commander Eric Stanton who'd been put in charge of repairs by Captain Jeffries.

"An honor to finally meet you, Captain," Stanton said, offering out his hand.

Jonathan gave an awkward smile and shook his hand. As he looked around he saw people at work in the corridors, wearing safety masks as they put back together panels, beams and other components that had been destroyed or damaged.

"Would you like to have a look at the Bridge?" Stanton asked him. "It's almost complete and your Ready Room was finished yesterday."

Archer nodded and the three of them made their way to the Bridge. For the amount of time the repair crews had had they'd done a thorough job. The bridge looked in pristine condition, apart from a couple loose wires still hanging from the ceiling. He entered his Ready Room and looked around, his hand caressing the desk – a new one, not the one T'Pol had smashed her PADD against.

Stanton said he wanted to show them the newly upgraded Command Center next. Jonathan said he'd join them in a minute. He wanted to be alone in here for a moment. He leaned up against the bulkhead and gazed out the window. Memories from a few months ago flooded back. The stars weren't streaming past as they normally were, but this is where he'd stood when he'd hatched his scheme.

The room had been in complete disarray. There'd been no lighting, except for that escaping from the Bridge and through the gap in the Ready Room door. He needed to get to Degra and he only had three days. With a fried warp coil it made no difference whether it was three days or three months. They'd never get there in time.

He'd already asked the Illyrian captain if they could do a trade of some sorts, and he'd been willing to trade anything but his warp coil. Each breath he took seemed labored and painful. His heart pounded in his chest. The ideas running through his mind horrified him. They sickened him to his very core. How could he even consider them?

What should he do? The Osaarian had warned him of a time like this, but he hadn't believed him. He'd been flippant, making some quip about how he wouldn't allow morality to get in the way of this mission. But he'd lied. Morality was Jonathan Archer's very foundation. And now he was to betray it. His conscience rebuked him for even thinking of such an idea, but he silenced it and instead concentrated on the logistics of the raid.

If they were quick no one would be hurt. He'd leave the Illyrians with Trellium and plenty of supplies. They'd make it home okay he told himself. He couldn't think otherwise, if he did he wouldn't be able to go through this.

The mere act of piracy, let alone stranding these poor people in the middle of nowhere was bad enough. But what else was there to do? He racked his brain hoping other solutions would surface but nothing came to him.

So he turned off his moral compass and decided to go ahead with his plan. He'd sat down at his desk and stared into the darkness wondering how he would deal with the guilt – because there would come a time, if the mission was a success, where he'd have to come to terms with the consequences of his actions.

He'd hoped Phlox might talk him out of his unethical plan, but the doctor hadn't even questioned it. It was T'Pol that cut him to the quick. He'd never seen her like this – eyes blazing, raised voice, tears in her eyes, desperately trying to reason with him. She reminded him of the words he's spoken to her in Sickbay about how he couldn't save Earth without holding on to what made him human.

She saw him as a compassionate, moral, noble and righteous man. Now he was going to betray his humanity and that image she had of him. As she yelled at him he felt the bile rise in the back of his throat. He wanted to yell back at her to shut up, to tell her he already knew all of this and making this decision was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

He was probably going to hate himself for the rest of his life. His hands were tied – he felt he had no choice and he tried to explain this to her. It appeared to work and he'd turned her into an accomplice.

Jonathan felt his heart pounding as he relived these memories. Perhaps coming back to Enterprise hadn't been such a good idea. And yet he had to come back at some point, he couldn't run from this forever.

He exited his Ready Room and headed for the Command Center. When he arrived a crewmember informed him that Forrest and Stanton had been and gone and were probably in Engineering by now.

Passing several repair crews on the way he finally made his way down the corridor which lead to Engineering. He opened the large hatch and walked through it to find Forrest questioning Stanton over the engines.

"Ah, Jon, you've decided to join us," Forrest said.

"What's going on here?" Jonathan asked.

"The crew are refitting some components and installing the new warp coil," Stanton explained.

He looked up to see two crewmen attempting to dislodge something from the engine. One of them called to a third person asking for their help. "What's the problem?" Archer asked.

"It's this alien technology – we're having a bit of trouble getting rid of it."

Jonathan felt a lump in his throat as he realized exactly what they were trying to remove. The three of them pulled together and he heard a metallic crash of sorts and a large metal object was thrown to the floor.

Jonathan walked over to it and glanced down at what was left of the Illyrian warp coil.

"Not sure how Tucker got this damn thing to work, it sure is rudimentary and there's still about a quarter of it jammed in here." He heard someone say.

They didn't have a clue. They didn't know what they were handling was what he'd sold his soul for; that this rudimentary piece of equipment as they referred to it, was what had enabled them to get to Degra in time and been the catalyst in saving Earth. They weren't aware that he'd stranded a whole crew of innocent people out in space just to have this now useless piece of metal.

He heard one of the crew ask the other for a specialized kind of spanner. "I might be able to wrench this out." Further noise ensued and several more pieces of twisted metal landed near Archer's feet.

"Jon, maybe it would be safer if you got out of the way," Forrest suggested.

Jonathan picked up a piece of the coil which lay at his feet and stared at it. "This is it, Admiral."

"What are you talking about, Jon?"

"Part of the Illyrians' coil."

Forrest approached him and tried to coax him away from the area of falling debris. "Commander Stanton, what's next to show us?"

"Some upgrades in the Armoury. Follow me, please."

Jonathan walked with them in a kind of daze. He'd placed the small metal object in his pants pocket and couldn't get his mind off it. The crew had treated the coil as a piece of garbage, as if it was worthless and undeveloped. He'd sold his soul for this and they'd dismantled it and tossed it aside in a matter of minutes as if it was yesterday's trash.

Stanton showed them around the Armoury but Jonathan didn't register anything that was said. Coming back to Enterprise had only served to remind him of his crimes. Forrest asked if he was feeling all right, noting that he looked a little pale.

"Maybe we could cut the tour short."

Forrest agreed and told Stanton he'd finish his inspection another day. They made their way to the airlock and boarded the shuttle. Jonathan was about to sit in the pilot's seat when Forrest said he'd fly the shuttle back to San Francisco. "Why?" Jonathan asked.

"Cause you said you're not feeling well."

"I'm well enough to fly." He'd been the pilot on the way up.

"I disagree. You're distracted. In the Armoury you had this glazed look in your eyes. What's going on, Jon?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"Are the ghosts haunting you?"

"What?" He couldn't believe Forrest was talking like this.

"You're fixated on what happened in the Expanse. That's why you didn't meet us in the Command Center, isn't it? And that's why you weren't listening to Stanton in the Armoury – because all your brain could process was the Illyrian coil being dismantled."

"Okay, I'll admit that being back onboard did bring back some memories. But I'm not fixated."

"What would you call it, Jon? Would obsession be a better word?" Forrest sat down at the helm controls and fired the shuttle up.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Being out there was no walk in the park."

"I read your report, Jon. I never thought going into the Expanse was an easy assignment. I knew it would take its toll on you. War is a nasty business and sometimes sacrifices and choices have to be made. You made one – for the good of Earth, and now you have to live with it. But you can't let it take over your life. This is affecting you on too deep a level."

Jonathan didn't answer, merely shrugged his shoulders. He sat down in the passenger seat and watched as they disembarked from spacedock. Soon Enterprise was just a dot in the distance and they were re-entering Earth's atmosphere.

* * *

"Do you want coffee, Jon?" Forrest asked when they were back in his office. He declined. Forrest asked his assistant to bring him a latte from the cafeteria. Then he called her back and said to get two, just in case Archer changed his mind.

"The coffee here has improved a lot since you were stationed on Earth, Jon."

"Oh." He didn't care either way; he just wanted to get to the matter at hand – the Illyrians. "I know you think this is some kind of obsession or fixation on my part, but just tell me straight — is there anything that can be done about these aliens who are stranded out there because of me?"

"I don't believe so."

"You could let me take Enterprise back out."

"Jon, be serious. It could take you months, maybe more to find them. I can't authorize sending you on a wild goose chase."

"It wouldn't be. I know where we left them. I'm sure we could map out a search area."

"Even if it was up to me, I can't say the rest of the Starfleet council would approve this."

"How do you know? It's worth a try isn't it?"

"I know because I already asked."

Jonathan gave him a confused look. This was unexpected. He'd thought Forrest was against the idea – and the way he'd accused him of being obsessed back on board Enterprise he hadn't had much hope of getting him to listen this afternoon.

"T'Pol asked me to," Forrest explained.

"Excuse me?" Jonathan asked, wondering if he'd misheard.

"When you were in Fiji T'Pol came to see me. She asked if I could help in arranging a rescue plan for the Illyrians."

He couldn't believe his ears. Why hadn't T'Pol said something to him? Maybe she'd only thought of it since he left for Fiji, but why hadn't she said anything since his return? Surely she knew how important this was to him.

"And your response?"

"I said I'd put her ideas forward at the next council meeting, which I did. The council isn't going to authorize any rescue. We just don't have the resources, Jon. There was a meeting this morning, and I questioned them again and the answer is the same. I'm sorry, Jonathan. It's time to accept what happened and move on."

"I can't…that's not acceptable to me." He fingered the metal object he'd placed in his pocket.

"Then maybe you should think about getting some help."

"Help?"

"You know what I mean. Talk to someone about this. I can see you are troubled. I'd hoped a vacation would help you, give you a chance to relax and de-stress. But it's obvious the situation is worse than that."

"Admiral, can you truthfully say you wouldn't be troubled if you'd done the same thing?"

"Of course I would be. But like I said to you earlier, you can't let it rule your life. What choice did you have? If you haven't stolen the coil, do you think we'd be here today having this conversation?"

"In other words the ends justify the means."

"Sometimes that's the way it is, Jon."

"We saved Earth, now it's time to make right what we did wrong."

"It's not within my power to authorize that."

"Then dammit, who is it up to?" Jonathan stood up from his chair and paced the room. He felt like he was banging his head against a brick wall. Forrest's assistant walked in at that moment with the coffees and placed them on the admiral's desk.

"These lattes are really good, here have one," Forrest offered.

"I don't give a damn about coffee, Admiral! I'm concerned about a group of people I stranded who can't make it home because of my orders."

"That's enough, Captain!" Forrest was now raising his voice. Jonathan sat back down and waited for his reprimand. He shouldn't have shouted at his commanding officer. "I'm sorry – but this is eating away at me."

"I can see that. I shouldn't have neglected this for so long. Jonathan, get some professional help, and if I have to make it an order, I will. I can't in good conscience send you out on another mission in this state."

"You're threatening me now?"

"I'm telling you to get some help and deal with this; that is if you want to continue being Enterprise's captain. Do you?"

"Yes." There wasn't anything else in his life that held any importance. If that was taken away he didn't know what he'd do with himself. It had been his life's path ever since he could remember.

Forrest taped some keys on the computer and handed Jonathan a PADD. "Here's a list of qualified personnel at Starfleet Medical who'd be happy to assist you."

"You mean shrinks," he said, as he perused the list. Dr. Steve Johnson was on the top of the list.

"If there was another way, I'd suggest it."

"There is. Can I least try and see if someone else can help?"

"Like who, Jon?"

"The Andorians, perhaps. Maybe even the Xindi themselves."

"T'Pol suggested the Xindi also, and the council didn't approve that."

It seemed he and T'Pol thought alike. "The council is being stubborn and prejudiced. We're at peace with the Xindi now."

"There's no more to discuss, Jon. Would you like me to make a referral for you or will you do it yourself?"

"Admiral, is this really necessary?"

"I think we both know it is. Dr. Johnson has extensive experience in helping people recover from the Xindi conflict – he was stationed in Florida not long after the attack."

"Yes I know him, but counseling bereaved relatives is different to trying to brainwash me into not feeling guilty anymore." Besides, he was angry at Steve for that stunt he pulled on Friday. How could he go to him for help?

"Sounds like you are knocking the idea before you even begin. I'm asking you to just give it a try – it might help."

"It feels like I don't have choice."

"That's right, Jon. You don't."

* * *

It was just after 4pm when he left Admiral Forrest's office. He waited impatiently for the elevator to arrive and wondered why it was taking its sweet time in getting here. He wanted to get out of here as soon as he could. It felt stifling. At last it arrived and the doors opened.

"Captain," T'Pol's voice said. He joined her and what looked like two young ensigns, who both greeted him.

"I thought you were seeing Erika at 1pm," he said.

"Captain Hernandez had a change of schedule and asked me to come at 3pm instead."

"So the meeting has just finished?"

"Yes."

The doors opened and everyone exited at the ground floor. The two ensigns went their way and Jonathan noticed T'Pol was walking at his side as they approached the main entrance. He held the door open for her.

"Jonathan, can I talk to you?" She was using his first name now that they were out of earshot.

"What's there to talk about?" Then he realized she was probably going to tell him he needed to recruit a new first officer. "Oh, right, you've accepted Erika's offer."

"Would you please not second guess me?"

"Okay, I'm sorry. My nerves are frazzled."

"Something happened with Admiral Forrest?" she asked with concern.

"Oh yeah, something happened."

"If it's agreeable why don't we walk over to the Spacedock Cafeteria, have something to eat and talk?"

She was certainly being friendly, he wondered why. Maybe she wanted to let him down easy about accepting the job on Columbia. He didn't know if being with her right now was the best thing. His emotions were all over the place.

"I don't think I'm very good company, T'Pol."

"I appreciate the warning, but I doubt I'd be witness to behaviour I haven't seen before."

He gave her a half smile. "That's generous of you. After last night I was sure you didn't want to be around me." He was tired and exasperated. He didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed about the kiss right now.

"Shall we go then?" He nodded.

His discussion with Forrest had given him an appetite and although it was too early for dinner he ordered a double cheeseburger and fries. T'Pol requested a salad.

"Yeah I know it's not exactly a healthy choice—"

"I'm not here to chastise you on what you eat, Jonathan."

He poured himself a glass of water and gulped it down. Boy, he was thirsty.

"About last night—"

He gestured with his hand, hoping she'd stop. "I think it's best if we just forget that."

"I wanted to explain."

"There's nothing to explain, T'Pol. And I'll ask as a favour to me if we can just drop that subject."

"If that's what you wish."

"Yes. Thank you." Was it his imagination or did she seem disappointed? Couldn't be, she'd been the one who'd pulled away from him. I'm tired and it's wishful thinking, he decided.

"So what happened with Admiral Forrest?" she asked.

"Why don't you go first and tell me about you and Erika?"

"Very well. She outlined what she considered were the advantages of being on Columbia. She told me who I'd be serving with and who'd be under my command. She explained what would be expected of me if I decided to take the position."

"And?"

"I don't follow."

"What was your answer?"

"I said I needed time to consider the matter. She was agreeable to this but asked that I get in touch with her within a week."

"Oh." So he was going to be in limbo for another week.

Their food was served and he bit into his burger as if he hadn't eaten for days. Boy, it tasted good. He'd noticed that apple pie with ice cream was on the menu and decided he'd order that after finishing this. After all, what was wrong with a bit of comfort food?

"Jonathan."

"Yes?"

She pointed to the corners of his mouth and handed him a napkin. "I believe it's called ketchup?"

"Right, thanks," he said taking the napkin and wiping his face. "Are you any closer to a decision?"

"No. It is difficult."

"Yeah. I imagine it is." He wished he could say something more intelligible, or at least something to convince her to stay on Enterprise. He'd done it before and both times it had worked like a charm.

The first time he'd pointed out to her how useful a Vulcan being on board would be to him, and she'd taken the bait. He'd had no idea it would be so easy. And the second time – well he'd told her plain and simple that she could catch up with Captain Sopek and convey her wishes if she wanted to. She'd made up some excuse about Phlox saying she needed to stay in Sickbay. Oh he hadn't been fooled one bit, it was as plain as day that she wanted to stay on board.

And the third time he hadn't even had to ask her to stay – she'd decided that of her own accord, resigning her commission and following him into the great unknown. None of them had known if they'd ever return from the Expanse. She'd given up a hell of a lot…and why?

_You need me._

That was it. That had been her explanation – plain and simple. Well he'd told her he needed her last night, but it hadn't seemed to make much of an impression. Guess I lost my chance, he thought, and that familiar dull ache in his heart returned.

He offered her some fries. To his surprise she actually took a couple from his plate, spearing them with her fork. He studied her eating her salad. She made eating look like an art form. Everything was sliced neatly on her plate and then loaded onto her fork with such precision.

"Jonathan?"

"Yes?"

"You're staring."

"Am I? Sorry."

"You were going to tell me about your meeting with Admiral Forrest," she reminded him.

"Right." He fished something out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of her. "Take a look at that."

She studied the object. "It appears to be part of an engine component."

"Yup, it's a piece from a warp coil. I went to see Enterprise today. They were removing this from the main engine."

"Is it—"

"Yes – it's part of the Illyrian warp coil." He replied in a hushed tone, making sure no one overheard them. "The repair crew knew nothing about it, aside from the fact that it was alien technology. You should have seen the way they disposed of it…like it was an annoyance hindering the speed of their repairs."

"They did not understand the significance of it, Jonathan."

"No, that they didn't," he agreed.

"You're upset."

"Oh yeah I was upset. Forrest thinks I'm losing it – called me fixated and obsessed. I've been ordered to seek professional help if I want to keep my captaincy."

"Perhaps it's for the best."

"I don't know." He sighed. "By the way, Forrest mentioned you. He said you'd been to see him. Why didn't you tell me?"

"There was nothing to tell you. I made a suggestion in regard to the Illyrians and was awaiting his response. The last I'd heard he was still waiting for a final decision from the council members."

"Well they convened today and the answer's no."

"That is disappointing, but not unexpected."

"No. Starfleet don't mind you doing the dirty work, but when it comes to cleaning up the mess they are nowhere to be seen." He finished off his burger and pushed the plate away from him. He called the waitress over and ordered the apple pie and a hot coffee. T'Pol asked for a fruit salad.

"Indulging in a sweet, huh?" he asked.

"It's fruit."

"Okay, so I guess that's not cheating."

"I was going to tell you."

"About?"

"The Illyrians. I had hoped it would be good news, that's why I never said anything before."

"Well thanks anyway. But it wasn't your responsibility."

"I wanted to help. Besides, I'm a member of your crew – I share in the responsibility. I told you this before."

"The sentiment is appreciated, T'Pol. But I gave the order and I know you were against it. Just being in my Ready Room today reminded me how much you were against it. I won't have you sharing any of the blame."

"So what now?" she asked.

"I don't know. If there was a way to contact Shran maybe…but Forrest isn't hearing of it. He thinks I just need to let it go."

He straightened up. Slouching wasn't good for his back. His shoulders were tense and his neck ached. He could feel a tension headache coming on. If only the last year could be erased – he wished things could go back to the way they were, before the Xindi attack. He wished he and T'Pol could go back to those times – of quiet, comfortable camaraderie with a hope of something more.

That's how it had felt over a year ago. Their friendship had developed into something strong – he'd felt a kinship with her.

"Jonathan," she said tenderly. He felt a feminine hand touch his. He quickly removed it. This was no more than pity. He looked tired and she probably sensed he was on edge. That's why she was being extra friendly. This had nothing to do with her caring for him – if it had she wouldn't have rejected him last night.

"You said last night this sort of thing was a bad idea. On reflection, I tend to agree with you."

"I apologize, I meant no offense."

"None taken."

They ate their dessert in silence. Suddenly comfort food didn't feel that comforting anymore. Thinking over what Forrest said he realized that the Admiral was right – he couldn't be Enterprise's captain, not in the state he was in now.

Rescuing the Atkins boy had been a kind of temporary reprise – he'd begun to feel better about himself. But being back on board Enterprise today had taken him a step back in his recovery. He had no idea how psychobabble was going to change any of this. Rescuing the Illyrians seemed the only way to appease his soul and cure his guilty conscience.

He paid the bill and they exited the cafeteria. "Do you have any plans for tonight?" T'Pol asked.

"No."

"Perhaps we could take Porthos for a walk together? It feels like a warm evening."

She felt sorry for him and didn't want him to be alone – that was the only explanation. God, how he hated when someone showed him pity. But he didn't relish the idea of solitude, so accepted her offer.

_TBC_


	27. Chapter 27

**Redemption **

**Chapter 27**

Jonathan had suggested they go to Ocean Beach for their walk. He said something about how Porthos enjoyed frolicking in the sand.

He appeared quiet and sullen. He'd been so ever since they'd left the cafeteria. She'd been surprised when he'd agreed to her suggestion. They'd driven over to his apartment and collected Porthos. The dog had seemed overjoyed to see her, causing Jonathan to comment how he seemed happier to see T'Pol than him.

Ocean Beach was several miles from his apartment so they'd taken the car. Once on the sand Jonathan unhooked Porthos' leash and let the pup roam around of his own free will. The beagle seemed to be bursting with energy. T'Pol asked if he'd been out for a walk with Jonathan this morning and he confirmed that he had, then repeated how much Porthos liked the beach.

If he enjoyed it so much, why had Jonathan not taken him to Fiji? Something there didn't add up. But she didn't ask.

They walked at a leisurely pace side by side, keeping Porthos within sight. T'Pol observed how several couples strolled along the beach, hand in hand. It appeared to be a romantic favourite for courting couples.

"I tried to work out where the Illyrians would be," T'Pol said, hoping to engage him in conversation.

"You looked at the star charts?"

"Yes, I was able to download them onto your computer from Starfleet. It's been under three months – they couldn't have traveled far. I think it would be easy to find them."

"If there was a means of doing so," he said, with resignation. "But Forrest wasn't open to any of my ideas. He said the council wouldn't approve asking for help from either the Xindi or the Andorians. I did think about the Vulcans, but I think that's a long shot, right?"

"I believe so," she answered, recalling her dinner with Soval last week. "I'm sorry, Jonathan."

"It's not your fault."

He stopped, gazing out onto the horizon. The sun was setting and the sky was a rich collection of pinks, oranges and reds. "Talking to someone about your feelings will prove beneficial I believe," she said.

"I know, you told me that before I went to Fiji."

"I feel the same way."

"It might make me feel better, T'Pol, but what about them? They are still going to be stuck out there."

"You've done what you can."

"Doesn't seem like much. You know, I don't think I want to be okay with what I did."

"You probably never will be, Jonathan. I would assume treatment would help you come to terms with it, not erase the guilt entirely."

"Sounds great," he said with sarcasm.

"I can understand how you feel. After what happened on Risa with Jossen I didn't think I could live with myself. The guilt tortured me day and night."

"I remember you telling me. However, we humans don't have the equivalent of a Fullara."

"The Fullara isn't fool proof, as you saw."

When Menos caused her to recall what had happened on Risa she'd been overwhelmed. Her memories had been clouded and she'd been uncertain of herself. Had she killed an innocent man? She'd felt lost and scared – if Jonathan hadn't been there to support and guide her, she knew there would have been no way she could have carried out her duty to the Ministry as requested.

"Okay, so what helped?" he asked.

"You did."

"Me?" His voice relayed genuine astonishment.

"I could not make sense of my thoughts – you guided me to make the right decision. I trusted you. I will always be grateful for what you did. I once told you—"

"I remember, T'Pol…if I need someone I can trust. I think I've taken you up on that offer plenty of times."

"Then trust me again – you will feel better once you deal with your feelings."

"But don't you see? I don't know if I want to feel better. The guilt reminds me what I did was wrong."

"Did you have another choice?" she asked.

"At the time it didn't seem so, but now I don't know."

"If you had it all over again, what would you do?"

"Oh God, I don't know." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't think I can even bear to think about it. I was in my Ready Room this afternoon and it all came rushing back – how I made my mind up, you yelling at me, my conscience giving me hell, and then shutting off my feelings and getting on with it."

She wished she could offer him a measure of comfort, but she was no psychiatrist. It was obvious the man was in pain, all she could do was encourage him to get help. "Speaking to a professional about such things will help, Jonathan."

"I don't have a choice. If I refuse Forrest is going to take my command away."

"The Admiral cares for you, not just as his subordinate but as a friend. I think he wants what is best for you."

"I guess. He gave me a list of therapists. Your friend was at the top of it."

"Steve?" She assumed that's who he was referring to.

"Yeah, Forrest even recommended him, saying he'd had experience with treating Xindi victims."

"Yes, he worked in Florida before moving here. He told me so."

"One of the many things he told you." T'Pol noted a touch of sarcasm in his voice. If he was angry about the things Steve had divulged he had a right to be. She shouldn't have been so inquisitive about his past.

"Don't blame Steve for what he told me. I was intrigued when he mentioned that you'd almost married once and asked for more details. I wouldn't have brought the subject up, but when we first met he asked me if you were married. I was surprised."

"I hardly know anything of your life being Enterprise, T'Pol. If I wanted to know I'd have asked you, not an old friend."

So he was upset. "I apologize. It seems my curiosity got the better of me."

"I didn't think Vulcans were curious, especially in such matters."

"I was because it was you. The man he described sounded so different from the man I'd come to know – I wished to know what changed you."

"You never asked me personal questions on Enterprise."

"You're correct. I suppose I did not feel comfortable doing so. And I'd like to apologize again. Your past is not my business. I never meant any harm by it."

"Relax, T'Pol. I'm not really mad, just a tad annoyed. And Steve knew better than to indulge your interest. At least I thought he did. I'd have told you all about Maggie, if you'd just asked. Considering everything that's going on currently, it's a trivial matter."

Was it? He'd seemed livid on Friday. If it hadn't been for her Steve and Maggie wouldn't have re-entered his life. But perhaps in comparison to how he felt about the Illyrians and their plight it was a matter of less significance.

She was also surprised to discover he'd have told her about Maggie. She would not have asked. She'd never enquired of his private life during the time they'd spent together socially on Enterprise. In the same fashion he'd never asked her any questions of a private nature. He'd even assumed she'd had a relationship with Trip without asking.

"I even agreed to see Maggie to sort things out," he continued.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, we're supposed to have lunch on Wednesday."

"I see."

She wondered if he still had feelings for Maggie. She'd been his first love – perhaps they'd never been completely extinguished. She had such little experience in matters of the heart; it was difficult to imagine all these complex emotions – falling in and out of love.

"May I ask, after she refused you, why did you disappear for three months?" She was concerned she might be treading on unwelcome ground, but he'd just told her if there was something she wanted to know she should ask. But still she felt trepidation.

"I'm not proud of how I behaved, T'Pol. I was young, foolish and madly in love. Love can make you do crazy things." He stopped and turned to face her, looking directly into her eyes. The intensity of his gaze made her stomach tighten and her pulse rate increase.

"I was hurt and angry. I didn't know what to do with myself. I thought if I stayed in San Francisco I'd go nuts. I had to get away. So I traveled. I spent about a month in New Zealand hiking the mountains on the South Island. I needed somewhere tranquil to gather my thoughts together."

"Did it help?"

"It was beautiful, peaceful and serene but I was still one angry young man. It was then that I decided to go to Tibet. I visited the Tholing monastery in Ngari. It had a profound effect on me – I realized there was no point to being angry and I needed to move on. I couldn't make Maggie love me or be my wife. And if she didn't feel the same way as me, well then I was better off without her."

"Perhaps another visit to the monastery is in order, Jonathan."

"What do you mean?"

"Since it helped you resolve your feelings towards Maggie, perhaps it would help you find peace with yourself in regard to the Illyrians."

"Hmm…if only it were that easy."

They walked further along the shore in comfortable silence. The wind was picking up and blasted cold air against her face. She shivered a little.

"It's getting chilly," he noted. "Perhaps we should head back."

"I'm fine. I don't wish to spoil Porthos' fun."

"Oh I think he's worn himself out by now." Jonathan whistled to him and the dog came running.

* * *

Jonathan pushed the thought that T'Pol was with him out of pity to the back of his mind and asked her to spend the evening with him. Their time on the beach had been pleasant and reminiscent of happier times together. He didn't want to let go of that just yet.

It was almost 8pm by the time they reached his apartment. Jonathan asked if she wanted anything to eat. He was going to order a pizza as he felt hungry again. She asked if she could make herself a salad.

"You sure? That's what you had at the cafeteria."

"It will suffice."

"I'll make it then." She protested but he wouldn't allow her, insisting that she was the guest. He ordered himself a large pepperoni pizza and made a salad for both of them.

"Do you like avocado?" he asked her before putting some in. She said she hadn't tried it before. He scooped some out with a spoon and asked her to taste it.

"A fascinating taste."

"Does that mean you like it?" She nodded.

Twenty minutes later they ate. T'Pol complimented him on the salad, saying it was very tasty and better than the one she'd had at the cafeteria.

"Thanks," he smiled.

"You should do that more often."

"Make a salad?"

"No, smile."

"Oh, well guess I haven't had much to smile about. Sorry."

"It is becoming on you."

"Thanks." Boy she was really being nice. Had she forgiven him over Fiji, or was it just that she felt he'd had a bad day and needed a break? He wished he knew.

After dinner he washed up and made her some mint tea. He was about to join her on the sofa when he noticed the books on his bookshelf had been moved. His mother's copy of _Jane Eyre_ was not where it usually was, but next to a copy of _Gulliver's Travels _which he'd read as a child. Also, he couldn't see a leather bound book which was normally right next to the copy of Bronte's novel.

"Did you read any of the books here, T'Pol?" he asked.

"Yes I did, I hope that's not a problem."

"No, of course not. I've only just noticed they were moved."

"I apologize; I thought I'd returned them to the correct place."

"It's not a big deal. What did you read?"

"_Jane Eyre_."

"Interesting choice. Do you remember seeing a leather book? It had some papers in it."

God he hoped she hadn't looked inside. He'd have been mortified. Long ago he'd written letters to T'Pol while on Enterprise expressing his feelings for her on paper. They were more of an outlet for him; he'd never considered showing them to her. Now for a second he feared the worst – had she read them? Where was the book?

She stood up and joined him by the bookshelf. "Is this the book in question?" she asked pointing to a brown leather book on the shelf above.

"Ah, yes, that's the one." How had it got up there? He distinctly recalled it being next to _Jane Eyre. _"I was sure I'd had it on the shelf below."

"Perhaps you are mistaken."

"Maybe. Guess it's not important."

"Did you finish the book?" he asked.

"Pardon?"

"_Jane Eyre_ – did you finish reading it?" It seemed odd that she hadn't heard him the first time, as if her mind was on something else. Her eyes seemed fixed on the leather book above. Why did he have a bad feeling about that? If she had read the letters, would she tell him? Vulcans didn't lie, but maybe she wanted to save him embarrassment. It would make them both uncomfortable if she admitted that she'd seen the letters.

"Yes, I did. It was an interesting novel."

"I have several movie versions if you'd be interested in watching them."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, unless you rather I take you back to the hotel."

"I would like to see the movie version."

"Great."

He picked one made by the BBC – it was the longest version, and they'd probably only manage the first part as it was four hours in length. But he felt she'd appreciate that one the most as it stuck closely to the book. The other versions were good as well, but considerably shorter with several omissions.

It was 11pm when they'd finished the first part but T'Pol seemed to be enjoying it to such an extent that they decided to continue onto the next part. Two hours later and they'd finished the epic.

Jonathan yawned.

"I apologize for keeping you up so late, Jonathan."

"Nonsense, I enjoyed it. I'm just a little tired."

"Thank you for enabling me to see this. It was as you said very close to the book version, and I felt the actors did a good job of portraying the characters."

It had been time well spent. Instead of concentrating on his own problems he'd got engrossed in the plight of Rochester and the young woman, Jane. He remembered how much his mother had loved this story – it was her favourite book and film. She'd often sat up late at night watching it not long after his father had died. For some reason she found the story comforting. To keep her company he'd watched it with her, though being a boy of twelve he'd found the story sappy and girly. Now he could appreciate the story for what it was – a romantic classic.

T'Pol stood up from the sofa, saying she would walk back to the hotel and didn't want to trouble him for a lift. Jonathan wouldn't hear of it, telling her this was no time of night for her to be out walking. On the spur of the moment he asked her to spend the night.

"I don't think that would be appropriate."

"Course it would. I'll be a perfect gentleman. You have my word."

"Then I'll take the sofa bed out here, and I don't wish to discuss it."

He smiled, glad that she'd agreed and nodded in regard to her using the sofa bed. "I'll make it up for you while you use the bathroom. There's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet above the sink."

She thanked him. "Oh and you can sleep in one of my baggy T-shirts if you like."

She thought that was a good idea. He walked over to his bedroom closet and retrieved something appropriate along with a dark green bathrobe. It would be too big for her, but she probably wouldn't want to be seen in just the T-shirt. He handed her both items as they met outside the bathroom.

"Thank you."

As he made up the sofa bed he could hardly believe that she'd accepted his invitation to spend the night. Considering how she'd practically sprinted out of the apartment on his return from Fiji this was unusual. He wanted to ask her but didn't want to jinx the pleasant evening they'd shared.

He was living in the moment for now – enjoying every minute he could steal away with her. If she took up Erika's offer there'd be very little time left. And tomorrow he'd have to deal with deciding on a therapist and finding some solution to the Illyrian problem. For tonight he just wanted to enjoy T'Pol.

She returned in ten minutes dressed in his green robe. The color suited her, bringing out her eyes, even though the sleeves were too long.

"You look lovely," he cooed.

"Thank you for preparing the bed," she said, seemingly ignoring the compliment.

"Sure, thanks for keeping me company. It's been nice tonight, hasn't it?"

"Yes."

He sat down next to her on the folded out bed. "So why can't it always be this way, T'Pol?" He was treading on thin ice but he had to know.

"Well for one, you've been easy to get along with."

"Ah, I see. So most of the time it's my fault then, huh?"

"You can think of a time when it was mine?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Well I did try to reach out to you when I got back, but you were so angry."

"How did you expect me to react, Jonathan? Just forget you'd run off with Rebecca and welcome you with open arms?"

At last they were talking about this. "No, but I wanted a chance to explain."

"I think I know what your explanation is."

"You do?"

"I have a theory. It came to me at the barbecue when you explained how you'd ended your relationship with Captain Hernandez."

"Oh." He wasn't sure what she was driving at, but maybe that was because it was late and he was tired.

"You're tired, you should go to bed, Jonathan."

"No, I'd like to hear your theory."

"We can talk at breakfast."

"I won't sleep until I hear your theory."

"Very well, though I did hint at it before."

"Okay, well I've got a bad memory – so can you humor me and just spell it out?"

"I said that I wouldn't be surprised if your white lie as you humans call it, to Captain Hernandez wasn't the first time you'd employed such a tactic. You'd tried to spare her feelings but in doing so you'd told her an untruth."

"Okay and what does that have to do with you and me?" She was on the right lines but he didn't want to give himself away so easily.

"My theory is that you misled me as to the current status of your relationship with Rebecca to protect me. Of course this was a totally illogical thing to do, but it seems humans do the most illogical things."

"Okay, I'd say you were warm. But I never planned it out that way, it just happened. And then it sort of snowballed."

"I see."

"I had your best interests at heart. You have to believe that. I mean okay, yeah to you it seems illogical and probably stupid – but we have this saying on Earth – sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind."

"I've lived with humans for almost four years now and I still can not wrap my head around some of your ideas. What a pity you do not adopt certain Vulcan ways. The truth is always the best way, Jonathan."

"Theoretically, maybe, but practically, not always. Imagine if we all went around telling the truth – how many people would get hurt."

"I disagree," she said.

"You're entitled, but let me give you a simple example. Say Hoshi is wearing a new dress off-duty and asks if you like it. It's a color or design which you find unattractive – do you tell her that or do you do the polite thing and say she looks nice?"

"I would be polite and say I think another color or design would suit her better."

"Okay, I guess my example didn't work. You feel telling the truth is the best way."

"Yes."

"T'Pol," he said in a hushed tone, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I tried to protect you. I'm sorry I went to Fiji. When I was straight with you, you wouldn't take no for an answer, so insinuating that something was going on with Rebecca seemed the only way to let you go."

"And then you returned and you'd changed your mind and thought I would fall into your arms?"

"Not exactly."

"Porthos was part of the ruse as well, wasn't he?"

"What do you mean?" She was good. She'd worked out Rebecca and now Porthos without even a clue from him. But at least they were finally airing their feelings.

"Today at Ocean Beach – you told me how much Porthos loves the sand. Why wouldn't he have enjoyed himself in Fiji? Why did you leave him behind?"

"Well if I'd asked you to stay at the apartment you'd have said no." No point twisting the truth, she wanted it served up straight.

She stood up and went to the living room window, peering outside. He could hear her inhale deeply. Was she mad? No, Vulcans didn't get mad, right?

"What a complicated web you weave, Jonathan."

He approached her cautiously. "So what now?"

"I think we should get some sleep, don't you? You've had a long day, you must be emotionally overwrought. "

"You don't hate me then?" he asked.

She gave him a slight frown. "You said something similar last night after the barbecue. How do you come up with such notions?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Does it need answering? Even when I didn't like you after we met that first day at Starfleet Medical, I never hated you. Hate is such a strong emotion. I believe you are exaggerating again."

Okay, so maybe he was. He couldn't think clearly when so much was hanging in the balance and at this moment he was trying to figure out whether their relationship was salvageable and if there was any reason for him to hope. Last night he'd told himself there wasn't a chance in hell that she'd ever want him again. And yet today things had taken such a different turn of events, from the moment the elevator doors at Starfleet had opened and he'd seen her standing there.

"I told you yesterday I will always be your friend. If that needs reiterating then I'll do so. I will always be your friend, Jonathan."

He gave her a half smile but inside he was disappointed. Friendship just didn't cut it anymore, he wanted more. Perhaps he shouldn't be greedy and be grateful that at least they had this. Though if she took the position on Columbia even that would be taken away from him.

"Thank you, T'Pol."

"I think we should go to bed."

He answered that it was a good idea and bid her goodnight. He crawled under the covers and turned out the side lamp, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was racing, trying to digest everything she'd said. So she knew the truth about Rebecca – but even that hadn't changed the status quo between them. Before Fiji she'd been persistent about wanting a relationship with him, now she seemed content with being friends.

Just my luck, he thought. Guess I missed the boat. Oh maybe she'd been mistaken, interpreted an attraction for him as something more and realized her error. She'd probably fallen out of infatuation now and friendship satisfied her needs.

So she never really cared – not in _that _way, she never loved me, he thought. Coming to that conclusion was almost as painful as being rejected the night before in her hotel room. But his reasoning was sound and it all made sense now.

The silence in his room was unusual, where was Porthos? Usually he could hear the animal's breathing as he slept. He tiptoed into the living room to investigate and found Porthos curled up at the bottom of the sofa bed. T'Pol was fast asleep seemingly ignorant of her sleeping partner.

So Porthos preferred to be with T'Pol. Go figure. Jonathan returned to his room – alone.

* * *

T'Pol had been in a deep sleep when she heard her name being called. At first she thought she must have imagined it. Then she heard it again and recognized the voice as belonging to Jonathan. He sounded in distress. She climbed out of bed, knocking her knee against the coffee table – that hurt, but she ignored the pain as she rushed into his room.

He was tossing and turning, his eyes shut but he kept calling out her name. He had tears running down his face. She caught hold of his shoulders and tried to rouse him from his nightmare.

"Jonathan, wake up!" she ordered. He tried to wriggle out of her grasp but she was too strong for him. "What did you do to her? How could you!"

She needed to awaken him immediately. She shook him hard, but still no response.

"Let me go!" he shouted.

She tried another tactic – she slapped him across the face. She disliked doing this but hoped it would garner some reaction.

His eyes opened and he looked completely confused. He focused in on her. "T'Pol?"

"Yes it's me. You had a nightmare." She turned on his side lamp so he could see that it really was her and not some illusion.

"Oh my God, you're alive!" She suddenly found herself wrapped in his arms, his hot breath on her neck coming in short pants as if he'd just run a race.

"Jonathan, are you all right?"

"I am now," he whispered, gazing into her eyes. "I thought you were dead."

He stroked her cheek gently and then kissed it.

"Jonathan—" she began, but wasn't permitted to finish.

He brushed his lips against hers. She didn't know what to do. Part of her ached to respond to him, but the logical voice in her head warned her not to go down this path. He pressed his lips to hers once again; attempting to deepen the kiss, but then withdrew as he realized she wasn't responding.

He released her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

He hung his head down, looking embarrassed and vulnerable.

"Your dream upset you, would you like to talk about it?" she asked, not wishing to discuss the kiss or make any reference to it. It was best forgotten.

"It was just a bad dream. It's not a big deal. I've had quite a few since returning from the Expanse."

"I didn't know. You've dreamt of me before?"

"What time is it?" he asked, obviously not wanting to answer her question.

"Just after 5am."

"I apologize for waking you."

"It's not necessary."

He rubbed his cheek, as if it was sore. "I'm afraid I had to slap you to awaken you. Nothing else worked."

"Oh…it's okay. Thanks for waking me up."

"Is there anything you need?" You gazed at her with such longing in his eyes that she felt uncomfortable and had to look away. "Perhaps a glass of water?" she added.

"I'll get it, don't trouble yourself." Was he angry? She couldn't be certain but there seemed a note of irritation in his voice. She did feel bad about rejecting him again, but returning his kiss would only serve to confuse them both.

She'd wanted to… and the explanation was on the tip of her tongue as she followed him into the kitchen. If it would soothe some of the hurt, maybe she should just tell him the truth. Wasn't that what she'd preached to him last night? How Vulcans valued truth?

Yet she felt as if no good could come of it. If she admitted how she felt it wouldn't help him. He might temporarily feel better, but it wouldn't bring the Illyrians home and it wouldn't erase his guilt. Also, she was leaving for Vulcan on Friday and was still debating her decision to join Columbia. No, it would be unfair to say anything of her emotional attachment to him.

Now she understood what he'd been trying to tell her last night – how humans were cruel to be kind. The concept finally made sense.

She watched him pour water into a glass and gulp it down. "You didn't tell me about your dream."

"Dreams are private, T'Pol."

"I thought we were friends."

"That doesn't change what I just said."

"Oh…I see. I thought it might help if you talked about it. You thought I'd died?" She remembered the tears streaming down his face and him asking someone what they'd done with her.

"I'd rather not dwell on it."

"Of course, I apologize." Why did this feel like some kind of punishment? As if he was paying her back for not returning his display of affection. Perhaps it was her imagination but he was being cold and distant. Last night things had been pleasant and cordial, now she felt like they'd taken two giant steps backwards.

He finished his water and returned to bed. T'Pol watched him close his bedroom door and felt like she was being shut out of his world. It was as if they were at cross purposes and neither one knew how to rectify that. It was a stale mate – and it would continue if one of them didn't attempt to break it.

She returned to bed and noticed for the first time that Porthos was fast asleep in the left corner, completely oblivious to the goings on. He must be a sound sleeper, she thought. As she climbed into bed her left knee reminded her that she'd knocked it against the coffee table. It was throbbing.

She attempted to ignore it and go to sleep.

* * *

Jonathan Archer had never felt more of a fool. Couldn't he take no for an answer? He was just glad he hadn't acted like this around Maggie – he'd taken no for an answer and gone to lick his wounds. Thankfully he hadn't hounded Maggie trying to convince her to marry him.

But with T'Pol he just seemed to love getting rejected. He'd done it two nights in a row! Hadn't he learnt anything? I'm as stupid and naïve as I was when I was 24, he decided.

Perhaps it was because his feelings for T'Pol were so strong that when they took over his memory of being rejected appeared to be momentarily erased. Whatever it was, he was still a fool.

Oh sure he'd thought she was dead. The dream had been the most vivid so far and had scared the bee-jeepers out of him. When he'd opened his eyes and seen her sitting there by his bedside his only thought had been rapturous joy at her being alive. Taking her in his arms and kissing her had seemed the most natural thing to do.

It was only when she didn't react that he felt he was being doused with cold water and reality sunk in. Then feelings of embarrassment over took him. And when she'd asked him if there was anything he wanted, well the only answer he could think was that he wanted her.

He wanted to hold her, kiss her, and make sure she was safe. He wished to reassure himself that his dream had been nothing but a figment of his warped imagination and that she was alive and well. But he had no right to ask for such things.

They were just friends.

He thought back to the dream and holding T'Pol's limp, lifeless body. He recalled running down the corridors of a ship, not Enterprise, but an alien ship, looking for her. She'd been kidnapped and he'd led an extensive search leading him to this ship. He knew he was close by but someone stood in the way. A tall dark figure appeared from the shadows.

"You're too late."

"Where is she?" Archer yelled. "What did you do to her?"

"It seems Vulcans don't tolerate Trellium well, Captain."

"Where is she? If you don't tell me—"

"What will you do, Captain? You already abandoned me and my ship, left us to drift out in space defenseless. Well now you'll know what it feels like to be lost. You're too late – she's dead."

"No, you're lying."

"I used the Trellium you gave me, ironic isn't it?"

He pushed the Illyrian aside and ran to the end of the corridor. He found a small cell with a woman lying face down in it. No, it couldn't be…but it was. It was T'Pol. He turned her to face him, but her life force had already been extinguished. He guessed she'd been given a lethal dose of Trellium.

"Leave her," the Illyrian boomed trying to pry her out of his hands.

"Let me go!" Archer had yelled and then he'd woken up.

He felt afraid to go back to sleep – this had been the worst dream yet, even worse than the last dream where he'd found a drowned version of his younger self because that at least had ended well. He sat up in bed, running his hand over his mouth.

"Oh, God," he sighed. He needed to see a therapist just to deal with these nightmares. He imagined snuggling up to T'Pol's lithe body would soon put an end to those, but there was more likelihood of Porthos learning to speak and use a toilet then that ever happening.

He opened the draw to his bedside cabinet and pulled out the PADD that Forrest had given him. Steve's name was on the top of the list but Jonathan had already decided he wasn't going to see his old friend for help. He scrolled through the other names and the name Dr Jennifer Wade piqued his interest. Her brief bio said she specialized in dealing with post-traumatic stress disorders and nightmares. Hmm…bad dreams — seemed like she was just the ticket.

He decided he'd give her office a call first thing in the morning and set up an appointment.

_TBC_


End file.
